


The Good Life

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angsty Schmoop, Bonding, Bottom!Sam, Car Sex, Cum Play, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Impala Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Romance, Schmoop, Sexual Content, Top!Sam, bottom!Dean, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-14 14:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Never Going To Let You Go.  As it turns out, being bonded to your soulmate is a (mostly) wonderful thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Proceed with caution. This story will rot your teeth out because it is going to be in the end nothing but kisses and sweetness. I like it that way. Tags are mostly for later chapters.

Being bonded to Sam was heaven.

Dean didn't want to call it bound, because that word felt like it wasn't a choice to be with Sam like this, so he called it bonded.

And it was the best decision he had ever made.

Being bonded with Sam had brought him permanence of the best kind. For such a long time, their life didn't have that. The only thing that they could both rely on aside from pain and hardship was up until recently was each other. And now, life was a little better.

Because he had Sam.

The bunker, which Dean had after just one day quickly deemed The Batcave, was everything they could hope for in a home. Even though the place was huge and only three people lived there – Sam, Dean, and Castiel (most of the time anyway) it still felt warm and welcoming. It even seemed like the things they hunted on a regular basis were taking a break.

Dean really couldn't complain.

He heard Sam snoring beside him, facing away from Dean. They had fallen asleep in each other's arms, but at some point in the night had separated. Dean turned his head to look at the clock on his nightstand – it read 9:30. He decided now was as good as time as any to get up, and he turned on his side and pressed his body to Sam's warm back.

Dean moved aside Sam's hair and kissed down his neck, his lips just barely grazing over the warm skin there. Dean found himself kissing his soulmate more and more often, and he did it every chance he got. It was the sort of affection and love that Dean had wanted to give Sam so very badly for a long time, and now that they had privacy and a roof over their heads that they wouldn't have to check out of after a day or two, he could give him just that.

“Sammy” he said gently, running a hand through his hair. “Day's getting old and we have stuff to do.” He wasn't lying. They had been taking inventory of everything in the bunker since the day after they moved in, and they weren't anywhere close to being done. Sam uttered a sleepy groan and opened his eyes. “One day I'm just going to ignore you and keep sleeping, you know that right.”

Dean climbed over Sam to face him. “Trouble is Sammy I won't let you.” Dean kissed him on the forehead, his stubble rasping against his younger brother's skin. Sam's response to draw the covers up to where just his eyes and nose were showing.

“Very mature Sam, come on.” In spite of the fact that he loved Sam very much, he found waking him up to be aggravating. Sam wasn't a morning person. Dean started to get up, but a hand on the waist band of his boxers drew him down, and suddenly found himself in Sam's lap, his younger brother smiling at him.

“Oh is this what you wanted?” Dean's temporary frustration was already gone.

“Yep.” Sam kissed him good morning, a warm and tender contact full of love. Sam tried to deepen the kiss, but Dean backed off from him. “Nice try Sammy but you're just gonna have to wait. I'm still recovering from last night.” Sam smiled as the memory of him riding Dean ghosted through his mind. “You mean the marathon that started yesterday afternoon?”

Dean sat up to move out of Sam's lap. “Exactly Sam. My hips are still awfully sore.” He rose from the bed and stretched. Sam laid back down, upside down to look up at Dean. “Not my fault that you couldn't keep your hands to yourself while I was trying to make you lunch.”

“And it's not my fault that you look so damn sexy walking around shirtless in nothing but a pair of gym shorts.”

“My shirt was dirty from shifting through all those books. And unless you wanted a dusty sandwich...”

“I know, I know, you just had to take it off.” Sam stood and put his arms around Dean's waist.

Dean kissed him again. “You know I can't resist you.”

Sam hugged him close to his chest. “Don't want you to Dean.”

Little moments like this had become quite common between them, and as a result they had gotten that much closer to each other. Sam closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of Dean's hair, his body warm in his arms.

They heard a knock at the door. Sam let Dean go and crossed over. Cas was standing there, eating a bowl of cereal. “So the two of you are awake. Good – I need your help.” Ever since bonding them, the angle had changed, becoming slightly more human every day. Sam couldn't help but smile at the way Cas looked at him, his hair sticking up all over the place, wearing a gray t-shirt and blue-checked sleep pants. It was like they had gained a younger brother who was constantly fascinated by everything, including the sugary cereal that he was currently eating.

“We'll be right out Cas, promise.” Sam shut the door and turned back to Dean, who was pulling a t-shirt over his head.

“Is it just me Dean, or is Cas seeming more and more... not Cas like.”

Dean held up a pair of worn sweatpants, deciding that they were suitable for the time being. “Not at all Sam. Makes talking to him easier. And believe it or not, he actually got a joke I made the other day. It took him a minute, but he got it.”

Sam chuckled at the image of Cas trying to process the joke, head cocked to one side.

Dean tossed Sam a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, saying “Come on, let's go figure out what it is he needs before he burns the place down.”

. . .

As it turned out, Cas was just having trouble with the toaster, not quite grasping the concept of having to wait for the toaster itself to be done, not when Cas wanted. Watching the angel's face when the toast had popped up had been priceless, and both Sam and Dean had laughed uproariously when the angel fixed them with an angry that's-not-funny face. After slinking off with a plate of toast and a boiled egg, Sam and Dean were left to clean up the kitchen.

Sam was washing his plate, the sink filled with warm, soapy water. They only thing the place didn't have was a dishwasher, so they did it the old fashioned way.

Dean came up behind him, putting his arms around Sam's stomach, kissing the back of his neck as he did so.

Sam paused for a moment. “May I help you?” Dean's constant hugs and kisses were 100% okay with Sam.

“Nope. Just want to stand here for a second and talk.”

Sam resumed washing and said “Alright. I'm all ears.”

“I know that we didn't exactly uh, get married in the traditional sense of the word but... Sam, I kinda want to go on a honeymoon.”

Sam smiled and pulled the drain plug, drying his hands on the towel he had to the side. “I thought three days without leaving the bedroom save to eat was your version of a honeymoon.”

Dean nipped at Sam's neck at the memory. “That was a very good three days, wasn't it?”

Sam turned around to face him. “A most excellent three days.” A hint of lust creeped into Sam's eyes, and he could feel himself starting to get hard.

Dean felt Sam's body and said “I'm serious Sam. I really want to do this with you. Anywhere you want to go.”

Sam thought for a moment and said “Up to you Dean. So long as I'm with you. We could stay here, go somewhere, I don't care. Just as long you're there with me.”

Dean kissed Sam on the lips, putting a hand on the back of his head. This time when Sam pressed his tongue to Dean's mouth, Dean let him in willingly. He gently pushed Sam backwards, leaning him against the counter. Dean tasted like the coffee and eggs he'd eaten awhile before hand, and his body was warm in Sam's arms. It was moments of spontaneous intimacy like this that kept Sam in a near-constant state of bliss.

That and Dean loved him more than anything else in the world, and Sam loved Dean back even more.

Sam broke the kiss and asked “Dean what exactly does this, not that I'm complaining, have to do with the discussion were were just having?”

Dean hooked his fingers in the waistband of Sam's shorts and said “I was thinking about licking tequila and salt off your body on some sandy beach. I think that's where I want to go.”

Sam's body quickly responded to the idea of Dean's tongue all over it, and Sam's breath hitched in his throat at the thought. “Tell me more.” Sam swallowed, his mouth having suddenly gone dry.

Dean reached into the back of Sam's shorts and cupped his ass. “Want to lay on a beach, watching that beautiful body of yours soak up the sun. Want to roll over on top of you and kiss you, let the water wash over us. You know, full on rom com crap. Except it won't be crap Sammy, because it'll be me and you.”

Sam's mouth hung open, not quite sure what to say. It truly did sound incredibly appealing, he just wasn't expecting to hear it from Dean. “Dean that... really?”

Dean nodded his head. “Remember the time Dad dropped us off in Port Aransas to go and hunt some poltergeist up the coast?”

The memory came to Sam's mind. “Sure do Dean. Wasn't too long before I graduated high school. He left us in a motel and said 'If you drink, be quiet about it.' First time I threw up from alcohol. I remember you sitting next to the toilet with me, saying to just keep going, I would feel better. Wanted to kill you for letting me drink so much.”

Dean chuckled and said “You're the one who swore they could drink half a bottle of rum in one minute Sam, not me.”

Sam looked a little sick at the memory. “And I haven't touched rum since then. Bad memories there. Aside from that, I remember not wanting to leave.”

Dean withdrew his hands from Sam's pants and said “I didn't want to either. Want to know why?”

“Why, Dean?”

Dean turned slightly red. “Because that was the first time I touched myself to you Sammy. I thought that maybe if we had one more week there, we could.... maybe you would want to....” Dean couldn't bring himself to finish the thought.

Sam kissed him on the top of the head. He put his mouth to Dean's ear and said “You know we can do that now, right? Hell we can get the same motel if you want.”

Dean's smile seemed like it stretched from ear to ear. “Really?”

Sam nodded again. “Yeah. Dean, that sounds perfect actually. When do you want to leave?”

Dean's smile shrank a little bit. “See that's the thing. We don't exactly know when we can. Evil shit crops up all the time.”

Sam looked a touch crestfallen. “Yeah, I know. But now I really, really want to go.”

Dean chewed his lip for a moment. “You know what? Fuck it. We'll call Bobby up, let him know we'll be off the radar for awhile. We've been kicking ass since we moved into this place anyway.” They had been, traveling all over Kansas to clean up messes and put things right.

Sam's smile lit up the room. “This time, you won't have to touch yourself either.” Sam reached down and rubbed the front of Dean's sweatpants, finding that his older brother was very much hard. “Looks like someone's very interested in that though.” Sam started to push down on the waistband of Dean's pants, but was stopped.

“You know Cas could walk in on us at any second.” Sam couldn't help but notice that Dean had his hand pressing up against the outline of his own erection.

Sam bit at Dean's bottom lip, earning himself a little moan of pleasure. “And does that not turn you on just a little bit? Knowing he could see us like this? Bet he'd be jealous Dean.” Sam gripped Dean's hard one a little bit tighter through the cotton, causing Dean to moan again.

Sam took this as initiative. “You know he's got a thing for you. Whether or not he knows it, but I can see it on his face. Trouble is, you're mine Dean. No one else is allowed to touch you.” Sam's head dipped to bite Dean's neck, not hard enough to hurt but enough for Dean to gasp. “Mine.” Sam's hand moved from its position on Dean's waistband and went right into his pants, and Sam squeezed his cock, just a little harder than necessary. “Mine.”

Dean's response was to kiss Sam harder than before, their teeth clacking together. Sam moved a hand to reach around to cup and squeeze at Dean's ass, and right as he was about to push Dean's pants down, they were interrupted by a swear in Enochian.

Dean's head snapped to where the sound came from, and he saw Castiel standing there, empty breakfast dishes in his hands, a strange look in his eye. Sam moved behind Dean to put his arms possessively around him, kissing Dean on the back of the head as he did so, Dean's erection painfully obvious in the front of his sweatpants.

“Dude get off me.” Dean said in a low voice.

Sam just chuckled and said “Not a chance big boy.”

Cas moved closer to where they were standing and set his dishes on the counter. “For your information Sam, I do not 'have a thing' for Dean. Just because I am not only his but your guardian angel does not mean I express sexual interest in him. Besides, I know better than to not come between what the two of you have. Does it fascinate me? Naturally. In heaven, it is still enough of a curiosity that interest cannot help but be taken. But I promise that I harbor no feelings of a carnal nature towards either of you.” Cas looked quite satisfied with his answer.

Sam relaxed internally, and even Dean stopped fidgeting in his arms. “Cas, can we ask you a favor?”

Cas nodded his head. “Of course.”

Dean drew in a breath before speaking. “Sammy and I want to go on a little vacation, just the two of us.”

Cas canted his head to one side. “A honeymoon?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. It's something that we really haven't had the chance to do, so we we're hoping you would just keep an eye on things on the whole.... evil thing.”

Cas's tone was surprisingly sympathetic. “I understand. Just let me know when you will be ready and I will make the necessary arrangements.” He bowed, which Dean thought to be very odd indeed, and left the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, Sam said low in his ear “Want to keep going?” His hand traveled back into Dean's pants, gently stroking him, making Dean shudder.

“Sammy...” Dean's thoughts were an incoherent mess. He knew that they had things to do, and he wanted to get them done so they could have more time for this, but Sam's expert hand tugging at his hard on was making it really difficult to focus on anything else. Instead, Dean leaned back into Sam's touch, craning his head back for a kiss, which Sam gave him gladly. He placed a hand on the side of Sam's face, holding him there, not at all wanting to leave his touch. Dean didn't want to call himself addicted to having Sam's hands on him, but he knew that in his heart he was. And he didn't care in the slightest.

Sam extracted his hand from Dean's pants and turned him around, deepening their kiss even more. Dean felt his toes curl as Sam rubbed circles in his back, releasing the knots that had formed while he was asleep. This wasn't attempted seduction, not a move to get Dean into bed so soon after yesterday's marathon lovemaking session – this was just Sam letting know how much Dean meant to him through physical contact.

Sam gently broke the kiss but still held Dean close. Dean wasn't sure why he said what he said next, but he did it anyway. “Thanks Sammy.”

Sam hugged him, putting his head on his shoulder. “Anytime Dean. Really.”

They stayed like that for awhile, just holding each other, suds in the sink slowly going away as the water got colder.

. . .

Later that afternoon, Sam was in the library, cataloging a section of books on plants. He didn't know that he would ever need all this knowledge on botany, but here it was. By some stroke that he was sure was a miracle, everything was in English, making digesting the information at hand even easier. He was organizing his fifth book on the uses of witch hazel when he heard footsteps approaching. He picked his head up and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

Dean smiled, holding up a plate with what looked like a mouthwatering meatball sub on it. Ever since they had moved in, Dean had cooked or prepared nearly every meal. Sam had insisted that he could make his own food, but Dean wouldn't let him. Sam normally just watched, a mixture of love and admiration in him as he watched Dean work his magic on whatever cut of meat happened to be in front of him at the time.

Sam took the plate from him, and settled back into his chair. Dean watched his face expectantly, waiting for Sam's reaction. Sam was right about the mouthwatering part – whatever Dean had done to this, it was beyond delicious. “Dean this is amazing.” Dean smiled like a kid at Christmas, and that made Sam smile too.

“Glad you like it Sammy.” Sam polished off the sandwich quickly, not realizing just how hungry he had gotten. He pushed the empty plate away from him and rubbed his stomach, his hunger sated. “Dean, I have to ask. And I know that there's stuff you keep to yourself, and that's fine but... how the hell did you learn to cook so damn good?”

There was a twinkle in Dean's eye. “A combination of Bobby, cookbooks that I would steal from thrift shops, and the desire to make sure you were well fed Sammy. You know that's always been my top priority, right?”

Sam reached out for Dean's hands, and Dean gladly threaded his fingers through Sam's. “I do Dean. I know that I was a pain in the ass when I was younger too.”

Dean just smiled and said “But you know what? You were my pain in the ass. Always have been, always will be. Except most of the time these days it's from you giving it to me like a champ.” Dean winked, and Sam couldn't help but laugh.

Hearing Sam laugh was a sound that Dean would never tire of hearing, because it was always genuine, never forced. That and Sam would toss his head back, leaving his neck exposed for the world to see. Dean suddenly had the urge to go and sit in Sam's lap, so he did. Sam had given the green light long ago that if Dean wanted contact like this, Sam would willingly and gladly give it.

The chair was plenty large enough for both of them to be in comfortably, so Dean straddled Sam's strong thighs, putting his arms around Sam's neck and kissing him, kissing him just like his Sammy liked, sweet, tender, and deep. Sam was still chuckling deep in his throat as Dean drank in his taste, a mixture of the sandwich he had just eaten and something that was just Sam, a cool fire that Dean was convinced came right from his heart.

Sam placed his hands on the sides of Dean's hips and drug them upward, carrying the edges of Dean's shirt with them. Dean raised arms and pulled the shirt off, the cool air of the library causing his skin to break out in gooseflesh.

Sam immediately pressed Dean's body closer to his. “Cold?”

“Little bit.”

“Bet I can warm you up real good.” Sam's hands traveled upwards, warm palms dragging across his older brother's skin, watching as Dean's flesh warmed up under them. He brushed his thumbs over Dean's nipples, making him gasp. “Sammy...”

Sam's look turned wicked and he went for the hardened bud on the right side of Dean's chest, his teeth just barely grazing over the dark flesh. It was all Dean could do to keep himself steady as his back arched, the pleasure centers in his brain ringing loudly. Sam knew that this was all it took for Dean to get him to agree to anything, and right now he was more than willing to let Sam do with him as he pleased.

Just as suddenly Sam's mouth was gone and he sat back in the chair, his arms still on Dean's waist. “Aw, don't leave me hanging hear Sammy.”

Sam just looked up at him and smiled. “Gotta save something for the trip, don't we?”

Dean groaned and said “Sammy if you're gonna make me wait that goddamn long I'm going to kill you.”

Sam put a comforting hand to the side of Dean's face and said “I promise I can make it worth your while. I mean really, really worth your while. Just be patient.”

. . .

Three days later, and they were on their way south. Dean had insisted on driving the whole way, and for Sam to just relax and look pretty in the passenger seat beside him. Arriving in the mid-afternoon on the third day, they found Port Aransas, Texas to be largely the same. It was still the same little resort town, pleasant looking shops and sandy white beaches. If a place could ever be classified as peaceful, then this was it. A rush of memories came flooding into Dean's mind as he pulled up to the same hotel that they had stayed in years previously.

The Blue Gulf Hotel had changed since the last time they had been here. What had once been a rather dilapidated complex now gleamed like new, fresh paint and buildings standing proudly against the bright blue sky overhead.

Sam went around to the trunk and stood next to Dean. “It's changed a lot in nine years, hasn't it?”

Dean put an arm around Sam's waist. “Sure has Sammy. Sure has.” He looked over at his brother and said “Sure has.”

Sam kissed Dean on the side of the head and said “Come on – let's get unpacked. I want to make some memories here Dean – ones we'll remember forever.”

Yeah, this week was going to be awesome, Dean thought as he followed Sam into the lobby.

. . .

As it turned out, one week turned into two. It had been nearly fourteen days of nothing but sun, surf, and sex. Morning sex, afternoon sex, good night sex, you look hot in those swim trunks.

And it wasn't enough.

Sam very quickly found out that after laying in the sun for awhile with a cold drink of some sort made them both horny and greedy for each other. His body had never felt so blissed out and sated for such a long period of time. If this was what heaven felt like, then eternity was going to be terrific.

It was the day before they had decided to leave, and they were wrapped in each other's arms, the moonlight streaming through the window. This was the one night that they hadn't made love, neither wanting to be sore driving tomorrow. Dean was lying there with Sam's head on his shoulder, absently stroking his hair, Sam all sun-kissed skin and pliant happiness.

Dean hated to ruin it, because it was as close to perfection as they had ever gotten, but there was something that had been nagging at the back of his mind for quite some time. He knew it was going to make Sam uncomfortable, but he had to know.

Dean took a deep breath. “Sammy can we talk for a minute?”

Sam snuggled a little closer and said “Of course Dean.”

“I know that... that this is a sore spot for you Sammy, but it's something that I've been chewing over for a long time now, but do....” Dean took another deep breath. “Do you think we would have this if Jess hadn't died? If mom hadn't died? Hell if Dad was still here too.”

Dean could tell that Sam wasn't enjoying this conversation, and he immediately wanted to take his words back. “Dean... I don't really know, to be honest with you. I've thought about it too, actually. Do I think Cas was right, him saying that we're soulmates? Since I was old enough to think for myself, absolutely. Of course, before it was just soulmates as in brothers, friends. That's something I always wanted. Dean I've never been in the least bit scared of the closeness between us. For a long time, it was the only constant thing in my life. And I when I was at Stanford, Dean I missed you. I missed you a lot. I never really fit in with the people there, save for Jess and her circle of friends, and even they regarded me with caution. But this, what we have now Dean? I don't know.”

Dean's emotions were swirling around inside him, a maelstrom of feelings that he didn't relly know how to address. “I wouldn't have pushed you if you didn't want it Sam. I knew that when we were here, all those years ago, that you were it. I knew the first time I came with your name on my lips, that was it. And Sam, I would have rather been alone rather than forcing something onto you that you didn't want. I'm not happy that she died Sam. I'm not happy that any of our loved ones have passed, because it still hurts. I know how much she meant to you Sam, I really do. I know you would have been happy with her, and that's what would have made it okay Sammy. I know that you would have been happy, and that would have been worth it.”

Sam wasn't sure when he had started crying, but hot tears were currently running down his face, running down Dean's body. Dean just held him, letting him cry, because he knew that he was the one who had made him feel this way. But this was a thing that would grow and get worse between them, so it was best to hash it out now.

After awhile, Sam's sobbing subsided, and the five year old boy who sought Dean's arms after a nightmare was suddenly all over Sam's face, and Dean hugged him tight, closing his eyes and kissing him on top of the head, saying over and over again “I'm so sorry baby boy.”

Eventually, Sam picked his head up, his eyes swollen and puffy. His voice was broken, but he spoke anyway. “Dean I... I don't ever want you to feel guilty, or wrong, or bad for wanting me like this. The way life has treated us – Dean we had no idea. I don't blame anyone but that demon for what happened to the ones we've lost. But after hearing you say that.... Dean it breaks my heart. And the thing is, I know you would have been hurting. I know that inside you would be messed up, tormenting yourself. And I would have done my best to make it go away. And if that meant giving myself to you... I probably would have done it anyway. Because Dean, you mean the fucking world to me. You always, always have. And this...” He gestured down at their bodies. “I think it would have happened anyway. Listen to close to what I'm going to say next Dean, because I don't ever want you to forget it. I rejoice every morning when I wake up next to you. I thank heaven every night before I go to bed holding you in my arms. The way that this happened, the way that we came together that first time and all the times after that, these last two weeks – I'm not saying the way it all happened wasn't messy, or painful, or good, but what we have now and for the rest of eternity? It's the most wonderful, perfect thing that has ever happened to me. I know that we've seen and experienced some truly awful, terrible, soul-crushing shit, but after all of it, this has been worth it. Me and you Dean. Together. I love you, and I will to the end of time.”

The tears had started afresh on Sam's face, and he pulled Dean to his body, letting him know that he was there, and Dean cried, cried harder than he ever had before in his life. All of the guilt and pain that he had kept buried deep, deep down for so long worked its way to the surface, washing out in his tears against Sam's body, Sam's hand on the back of his head, rubbing it, letting Dean know that it was all okay, that he wasn't going anywhere, and that he never would.

It was getting close to midnight before they both were out of tears to cry, and the way that Dean looked on Sam when he was done, Sam knew in that moment that from now on, life was going to be better.

Dean wiped away the tears from his face with the back of his hand. “Sammy, I promise I'll never make you hurt like that again.”

Sam hugged him and said “I'm glad you did though. It just would have gotten worse, and you know it. But let's promise each other right here and now that whatever left over crap from our past is gone. We know it happened, but that's just it – it's done. No more tears over this. From now on, Dean I'm gonna do my best to make you the happiest guy on Earth. Deal?”

Dean smiled, and this time it felt more genuine than it ever had before. “Want to shake or kiss on it?”

“Both.”

. . .

Three days later, Sam and Dean entered the bunker, expecting the worst. Castiel, despite his best intentions, was still getting the hang of technology and other human objects. They found the angel sitting in what they considered to be the living room, sitting cross legged in the floor with his back to them taking apart a bit of machinery that he had found somewhere.

Dean held up a hand to stop Sam, peeking just in the door to see what it was, and then they collectively jumped when Cas said “Aha!” and whatever it was he was holding let forth an ear-splitting wail. Both Sam and Dean put their hands over their ears, and Cas turned around to face them, looking like he had discovered a gold mine.

He shut the thing off and said enthusiastically “Sam, Dean, you're back! Look at what I have!' Dean took the object from his hands, turning it over and over. “Uh... what exactly is it Cas?”

Cas looked proud as he explained. “I've repaired the security system. If anyone tries to break in, that's what they will hear. I've also finished cataloging all the books and machinery here. After the first week you were gone, I really needed something to do aside from watch all of the movies that you had suggested. Dean, whoever this Chuck Norris guy is, I don't like him. But Sam, Jet Li is terrific.” He moved between them to go and place the thing back wherever it had come from.

When Dean looked back at Sam, his younger brother was smiling smugly.

“Chuck is still the best.” Dean turned to move out of the room.

“You're just mad because Cas liked him better.” Dean held up his hand and flipped Sam off.

“Is that a promise Dean?”

Dean paused and said “It can be.”

Sam smiled and followed Dean up the stairs, already knowing that everything was going to be alright.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the link to Sam's car: http://www.cardomain.com/ride/3359880/1963-ford-galaxie/

Dean almost always slept through the whole night nowadays.

When he was a child and into his early adulthood, he slept at most five hours a night. It was just the way he had been trained by his father to do, all survival instincts and keeping on the move. That started to change when he started sleeping with Sam.

Soon after beginning a relationship that went far deeper than just brothers, Sam had slept in his bed every night, draped over Dean like a giant guard dog that doubled as the world's most loving teddy bear. Dean found that he started sleeping for six or seven hours a night, and in turn noticed that he started to feel and act much better. After four years of blissful relations and companionship, he and Sam had been joined together in holy matrimony, bonded as soulmates for eternity. This connection deepened their relationship even further. It was something that Dean cherished, and realized that the fulfillment and love that he had sought all his life was right there in the form of Sam.

The best part was that Sam returned his feelings twice as much.

Dean turned over in their bed, the familiar warmth of Sam missing. He blinked his eyes open, peering at the alarm clock on the side table. It read just past two, meaning that Dean had told Sam that he was going to bed over four hours ago, and his soulmate still wasn't there with him. After the first night this had happened, he hadn't given it much thought. After the second night, he did the same thing – he figured that Sam had found some book in the vast library that the Bat Cave, as Dean had promptly named it, sported. He must have been engrossed and didn't want to disturb Dean while he was sleeping. This went on for a few more nights, with Sam coming to bed very, very late.

And now, after a week, Dean was more than a little concerned.

Tugging on a pair of sweatpants and a bathrobe, he exited their bedroom and made his way towards the library. Cas's door was closed, and he heard soft snoring from behind it, indicating that the angel wasn't with Sam. He stretched his arms as he shuffled towards the library, feeling an ache that a man of thirty one shouldn't be experiencing this early in life. He quietly entered Sam's beloved space, and saw him sitting at the end of the table, light from the computer screen reflecting on his face, a large notepad under his right arm on which he was writing furiously, his mouth moving silently as he read to himself what he was writing down.

“Well at least I know you're not down here watching porn.” Sam's eyes shot up and locked with Dean's face, a guilty expression on his face. Dean smiled wide at him and made his way over to Sam, who began to quickly close out tabs and move his notepad to where Dean couldn't see it. Before he could get too far, Dean was more or less in his lap, holding him down and not letting his hands move. He looked at the screen and said “Definitely not porn. Sammy, what's going on?”

Sam looked as though he had been caught stealing candy from a child. In a very quiet voice he said “Dean we need to talk.” Normally those words didn't carry a whole lot of weight, but the intention behind Sam's tone was serious. Dean moved off of him and leaned against the edge of the table. Sam looked up at him and set out a long sigh. “Dean, I want a car.”

Dean's brow furrowed slightly. “We've got a car Sammy. Had her for a long time.”

Sam shook his head. “No Dean, you have a car that you let me drive every once in awhile. I want my own. That way I don't have to quite as reliant on you for getting me around. That and I've never, ever had my own. Even at Stanford I had to bum rides or take the bus. So now that we have a little more permanence in our lives, I'd like my own. Dean, you gotta understand where I'm coming from, right?” Sam saw the slight worry in Dean's eyes.

Dean nodded his head slightly. “Yeah, I guess Sammy. Never thought that maybe you'd like your own wheels. Hell if I had known, I would have tried to get you some.”

Sam reached up and squeezed his knee. “Dean you do more enough for me already. This is definitely something that I want you to be in on though. What do you say?”

Dean stuck out his hand and Sam took it. “You got it Sammy. But I have to ask, what have you been doing up late for the last week?”

“Looking for a good deal. Auctions, private sellers, everything. The most promising thing I've found has been this.” He held up his notepad, pointing to the top entry. “The Wichita Car Show and Auction. It's this weekend too. Biggest one in the state. Can we go Dean?”

Dean's smiled crinkled the space around his eyes. “Hell yeah we can go Sammy. Dad took me a couple times when I was a kid. Been wanting to go back for a long time.” Dean moved from the table and sat on the arm of Sam's chair. “We'll find you some wheels Sammy, that's a promise.”

Sam shut down his computer and rose from his seat. “C'mon. I promise this is the last night I'll stay up for awhile. Besides, I've missed going to bed with you.” He put his hands on Dean's waist and pulled him close. “You're sexy when you're tired too.” Dean yawned wide and put his head against Sam's shoulder. “I'm sexy all the time, asshole.”

Sam kissed him on the top of the head. “I'm not disagreeing with you.” Dean mumbled something that sounded like “You better not” and Sam pushed him off, gesturing towards the stairs. Dean followed, yawning again. “Too tired for a blowjob?” Sam turned, regarding him with a did you really just ask that look. “What, were the two earlier not enough?”

Dean shrugged. “Sorry Sammy, but you give 'em so good I can't get enough.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Sorry, but this business is shut for the night. Maybe in the morning, if you can keep your elbows out of my side. What in the hell were you dreaming about last night anyway?”

Dean smiled. “You.”

“What about me?”

“You were stealing the pie I was bathing in.”

Sam's eyes narrowed. “And this bruise in my ribs was you fighting me off?”

Dean pursed his lips, inspecting the dark purple splotch Sam was gesturing to on his ribcage. “Yep.”

Sam sighed again. “I'm sleeping somewhere else tonight if you keep that up.” Sam started up the stairs but was suddenly stopped, Dean's arms tight around him. He heard Dean say into his back “Please don't.” Sam smiled to himself and turned Dean in his arms. “You know I wouldn't.” He gave Dean a gentle kiss on the lips. “Waking up next to you is about the best thing in the world.”

Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair. “What's the best thing, then?”

Sam smiled this time. “The knowledge that you'll be there forever.”

Dean kissed him, a little warmer and deeper than the one Sam had just given him. “It's an awesome feeling, isn't it Sammy?”

Sam couldn't help but laugh. “The best.”

Dean hugged him again, basking in the safety and warmth that was all Sam. “If you find a whip you really like are you gonna let me drive it?”

Sam rested his chin against Dean's ear. “Maybe. Depends on how helpful you are in finding one. I know that you've been waiting for me to tap that brain of yours on this particular subject.”

Dean picked his head up from Sam's chest. “Hey, after you metal and rubber are what I know best. Well that and the whole hunting thing but that's not exactly interesting. Just... messy and... violent.”

Sam couldn't help himself. “So are you when you cum.”

Dean smirked. “That sounds an awful lot like an offer to me Sammy.”

Sam laughed again. “Not a chance Dean. It's going on three am. Do you really want a sloppy, tired blowjob?”

“Hey, a blowjob's a blowjob. And out of the oh, couple thousand or so you've given me precisely two have been bad.”

“I knew I could count on you to remember how many. But really, just two? I'd say that's alright. When were those anyway?”

Dean tilted his head in thought. “Two Thanksgivings ago when you insisted on trying to use pumpkin pie filler as lube. Sam, that was just terrible. And a couple weeks ago when you got drunk off of that whiskey you found in the kitchen. Too much teeth baby boy.”

“Hey, I made up for it the next day. I've never had as bad a hangover as then. Guess the Men of Letters needed that stuff. I can't help my brain told me to drink half of it.”

Dean started up the stairs again. “Yeah, your brain made you do it. Sammy, you know that was all you.”

Sam chuckled. “Alright, yeah it was. Well, maybe you a little bit too. I didn't drink whiskey until you came back along, you know that right?”

“I'd say that's a good thing. Whiskey's the second most important element after coffee.”

They reached their bedroom, finally. “Dean I think you were reading the wrong chemistry book in high school.”

Dean gave him his best lewd smirk. “Didn't pay attention in chemistry. Don't remember her name, but the teacher was hot. Spent most of that class looking at her ass.”

Sam shook his head and moved to brush his teeth. “It never shuts off, does it?”

Dean came into the bathroom and put his arms around Sam's waist. “Especially since I have you Sammy. No one else has ever compared, you know that right?”

Sam smiled around his toothbrush. “Mmm-hmmm.” He spat the toothpaste out and said “You've told me a few times before.” He turned around so that he could look Dean in the eyes. “And I know you mean it.”

Dean cupped one side of Sam's face. “Always.” There was a warm look in Dean's eyes. “C'mon Sammy, bedtime.” Dean started to leave the bathroom, but was stopped by Sam's hand in his.

“C'mere.” Sam pulled Dean to him for a deep kiss, and suddenly Dean felt a lot warmer. Sam put a hand on the back of Dean's head, holding him in place. A million different thoughts, all involving Sam and his mouth, flew through Dean's mind, making his toes curl against Sam's. Dean got lost in the kiss, his tired brain open to Sam, Sam's tongue, and the warmth of Sam's body against his.

Sam broke the kiss after another minute or so. Dean looked quite happy, and Sam saw the contentment in his eyes. “Consider that a promise for tomorrow. There's a lot more where that came from. Now we can go to bed.”

Dean wasn't disappointed in the morning.

. . .

Sam was up half an hour before Dean the morning of the auction.

He made his way to the kitchen, getting ready a tall thermos of coffee and warming up a couple of sticky buns for Dean, and cooking an egg sandwich for himself. Dean came down to the kitchen after awhile, dressed and rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes. He sniffed the air. “Sticky buns?”

Sam presented him with one wrapped in a paper towel. “Sticky buns.”

Dean took a huge bite out of it, chewing happily. His noise of pleasure indicated that it was quite good and he canted his head towards the door. Sam nodded. “Just a second – gotta leave a note for Cas.” He was looking for pen and paper when the angel walked into the kitchen, straightening his tie. “Going somewhere?”

Both Sam and Dean started at his sudden appearance. “Yeah we are Cas but I was hoping that this could be just a me and Sam thing, so the place is yours today.” Cas studied them both for a moment, a smile creeping across his face. Before he could turn and walk out the door, Sam stopped him. “And no, we're not slinking off to screw all day. You can wipe the silly grin off of your face.” Cas just smiled even wider, waving a hand behind them as he left.

They went down to the garage, the Impala standing in one corner of it. Dean had finished his second sticky bun by the time they got there, and as Sam slid into the passenger seat, he said “Not that I wouldn't mind taking a day to screw.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows at Dean, who smiled as he put the keys into the ignition. “You know what Sammy we might have to do that soon.” Sam pulled out his map and directions, getting them ready for use. “I remember the last time we did that. That was a good day.”

“More like day and a half.” Dean put the car in gear and started towards the massive steel door that covered the bunker's garage. He reached a hand out of the open window, pressing a button to open it. The dawn sky was just starting to light up before them, all dark purples and blues as the sun parted the fading twilight. “How far to Wichita Sammy?”

“About 200 miles Dean. Things get rolling at 10, so you've got...” He looked at his watch. “Four hours.”

Dean pressed the accelerator, the Impala roaring underneath them. “Let's do it.”

. . .

The skies were clear and bright blue overhead as Sam and Dean rolled into Wichita. It had been years since either of them had passed through the area, and it was a lot bigger than Dean remembered. There was a lot of traffic that day, and most of it was heading towards the auction. Sam looked out the window, taking in the sights. “Now that I think about it Dean, I don't think I've ever actually been into the city. Has it changed much?”

Dean beckoned for a group of people to cross in front of him. “It has. Seems like there's a lot more here than the last time I was in town. Of course, that was easily... fifteen years ago?”

“So I was... 12 at the time. Yeah, I don't remember at all.” Sam indicated where they needed to turn next.

The auction grounds were vast. There were miles and miles of gleaming metal, bright colors, and more chrome in one place than Dean had ever seen. As soon as he parked the Impala, he made sure to lock it down, several people immediately coming up to him offering him a good price for it. Dean had to more or less push them away, with Sam standing behind him looking as threatening as possible.

Once he had convinced him that Baby wasn't for sell, they started towards the main complex. “Dean, just out of curiosity, have you ever considered selling the Impala?” Dean shook his head. “Hell no. That car's important to me, almost as much as you. Hell if I could take it to the grave with me I would. If it's still knocking around when the time comes, I want to be buried in it. You can even ride shotgun.” Dean smiled, looking at Sam out of the corner of his eye. “Dean I've always ridden shotgun. Hell I've ridden you shotgun.” Sam winked at him, a memory of Dean and he having sex in the passenger seat running through his mind. “I remember that was the second time we had sex.”

Dean couldn't help himself and reached for Sam's hand, discretely threading his fingers through Sam's. “That was a good night too.” Dean turned and brushed his lips over Sam's cheek. “Definitely want to do that again sometime.”

Sam squeezed Dean's hand slightly tighter. “You're bottoming this time though. I had a knot on the top of my head for a week after that. Not that it wasn't worth it though.” Sam could have sworn he heard Dean purr at the thought.

The auction housing was full of people, all jockeying to get a view of the stage. It was standing room only, and Sam and Dean both took a number to raise, figuring that if they worked as a team they stood a far better chance of getting what Sam wanted. Truthfully, Sam only had a vague idea of what he was looking for. With plenty of cash to spend, he was keeping his options open.

“So Sammy – what kind of wheels are we talking about here? Older, newer, American, Euro power – what?” He flipped through the auction manual, eying some of the cars that would be going to the bidders.

“Honestly Dean, I don't know. What do you recommend?”

Dean gestured for Sam to put his head closer so that he could hear him better. “Ultimately the choice is yours of course, but here's what I prefer. I'm a sucker for muscle cars, early 60s all the way up to the early 70s. General Motors made some pretty fucking sweet rides at the time – Camaros, Impalas, Chevelles, Corvettes. Steer clear of Oldsmobiles and Pontiacs. I've never liked them, 4-4-2s and Firedbirds. I will make an exception for a GTO though – damn good in a straight line. Then you've got your Chrysler products – Challengers, Barracudas, Chargers, Furys, Coronets. If I had to pick one out of that line up, I would go for a 'Cuda. Drop a 426 or 440 in one of those bad boys and watch 'em go Sammy. Trouble is you're so damn tall I think you'd be uncomfortable.” Sam nodded his head, absorbing everything Dean was saying.

Dean drew in a deep breath before going on. “Then of course you've got your Ford products. Mustangs, Galaxies, Fairlanes, Thunderbirds, Cougars, Comets, Marauders. Out of those, I'd call out the Mustang and Galaxie. Of course, you know a Mustang when you see it. Just don't look too hard at anything past 1973 – that's when they fucked them up and made them a piss-poor imitation of a little Euro gas sipper. You follow?”

Sam nodded. “Sure do Dean, loud and clear.”

Dean smiled, glad that Sam was understanding. “Now the Galaxie Sammy, I think that's the one you would like the best. Personally, I prefer the post 1964 models with the stacked headlamps, like this one.” He pointed to a picture of a blue convertible. “But they're all awesome, awesome cars baby boy. They were Ford's answer to the Impala. Had Dad not left the Impala to me, I'd be driving one myself.”

Sam nodded again. “Alright, let's see what comes up then. Who knows, I might drive away from here with something great.” He leaned in so that only Dean could hear him. “Not that I wouldn't anyway.” Dean smiled. “You're sweet, you know that Sammy?”

“Someone told me that once. I figured it was true.”

The auction started soon after, and both Winchesters couldn't help but gape at some of the choices being offered, including a 1935 Deusenberg convertible that Sam would have bought had Dean not pulled his arm down. After two hours of bidding and haggling, the auction closed for the morning, and some of the onlookers went outside. There hadn't been much that appealed to Sam, and he was a little disappointed.

Dean noticed his slight melancholy. “Don't worry Sam, we'll find something.” He looked around, seeing a sign that said “Private Sellers.” Figuring that this part of the place wouldn't be as highly competitive as the main auction, he tugged at Sam's arm excitedly. Sam followed him, feeling slightly better at seeing where Dean was taking him.

They weren't disappointed. The choices before them were even wider than at the auction. Nearly every car on the lot was made between 1960 and 1970, and people were milling in and out between the rows of gleaming American muscle. They wandered up and down the rows of cars, taking time to examine more than a few, bypassing most of them completely. After an hour or so, Dean's stomach grumbled. “Sammy, I'm running on empty here – what do you say to a bite to eat?” Sam's face spread in an impish grin. “I'd like that. Except I'm a little hungry for something else.” He pulled Dean in for a quick, hard kiss that made the hairs on the back of Dean's neck stand up. “Feeling frisky Sammy?”

“Can't help myself. Watching you get all excited over cars has me excited.” He winked and the end of his tongue darted out to wet his lips. Dean's pupils went a little wider, arousal building in him.

“Well aren't you two just adorable?” Both of their heads snapped to the side, looking for the source of the voice.

It had come from a very attractive woman in her mid thirties, tall, long, dark red hair, and greener eyes than Dean's. Both Sam and Dean couldn't help but be struck by her beauty. Dean recovered first. “Sorry ma'am, just uh... I'm Dean.” He stuck out his hand and she shook it. He turned back to his brother and said “And this is my husband, Sam.”

“Boys, it's a pleasure. I'm Fiona.” Sam shook her hand, noting that she had a strong grip. “If you're looking for a bite, I've got a stand over here. Hot dogs, burgers, you name it.” She gestured to a food cart behind her. “Interested?”

Dean's stomach rumbled again. “Yeah, for sure. Coming Sammy?” He started to follow Fiona, mouth watering for a burger. Sam was still reeling. It had been the first time that Dean had introduced him as his husband, not partner, boyfriend, whatever. He took a private pleasure in that, and followed Dean.

After three hotdogs a piece and some of the best fries Dean had ever tasted, they found out that Fiona was here with her father.

“He's been trying to sell his car for years at this auction. He's gotten a lot of offers, but he's just too stubborn to let the thing go. I keep telling him if he doesn't want to sell, then he shouldn't. Men and their toys – always wanting to display but never show.” She gave them both a knowing smile. “I'm guessing you two don't exactly go out much, do you?”

Dean chuckled. “Our job keeps us on the road plenty. The hours suck and the pay is crap, but we do it because it needs to be.”

Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Mind if I ask what it is you two do?”

Sam answered before Dean could. “Just believe us when we say you don't want to know.”

Fiona was about to say something when her father came up. “Harassing the boys again Fiona?”

She rolled her eyes. “No Dad, just giving them a bite to eat. They're looking for a set of wheels for Sam here.” The man stuck out his hand in introduction. “I'm Leo, nice to meet you.”

Sam shook back, and then Dean. “I'm Sam, and this is my partner, Dean. It's a pleasure Leo.” Leo regarded them both with a calculated stare, gauging them. “Say Sam, why don't you follow me over here?” Sam looked to Dean, who nodded, and put a hand on the small of his back, indicating he could follow. Sam followed the older man, noticing that he walked with a limp.

“So how long you and Dean been together?” Leo spoke without turning around. Sam was caught slightly off guard by the question. “Uh, a long time now, actually. We grew up together.” He couldn't quite bring himself to tell Leo that they were brothers.

“It shows, Sam. I saw how he looked at you. It's a beautiful thing, that sort of devotion. Kinda how it is with me and Fiona. Ever since her mom died, we've been close. Says she won't marry so that she can take care of me. I keep telling her to get, but she just won't go.” Sam smiled as Leo relayed his tale, a warm feeling in his bones as he thought of the same sort of bond between him and Dean.

He just did notice that Leo had stopped talking and was currently standing by his side. “Well, what do you think?” Sam followed to where Leo was pointing, and his jaw dropped.

It stood there, all broad planes and American power. Two massive doors hinted at a spacious interior, quadruple headlights embedded in the grill, thick black tires supporting the beast, covered over in dark maroon paint. Leo spoke from behind Sam. “1963 Ford Galaxie 500. 425 horses, 480 pounds of torque, top speed of 120 miles an hour, after a few modifications. What do you think?” Sam walked towards the car, circling it, letting his hands travel over the surface. He didn't notice Dean and Fiona walking towards them, and started slightly when he heard Dean speak. “What do you think Sammy?”

Sam nodded his head, closing his mouth and swallowing. “Dean this... this is it.” Sam looked at Leo. “How much?”

Leo pondered for a moment. “For you, I'll make you a special offer. You promise to take care of Dean here for the rest of your days, and its yours for two grand. I've put ten times that much work into it, but I can't help myself. Think you can do that Sam?”

Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “I'll throw in an extra two Leo. Just... thank you.”

. . .

Two hours later, title in hand and a bounce in his step, Sam walked with Dean back over to where his car stood, waiting to be driven home. Fiona was there, standing behind the open driver's door. “Well boys, what you witnessed today was a miracle. My father finally gave up his Galaxie.”

Dean put an arm around Sam's waist. “What exactly made him give it up?”

A sad smile spread across her face. “I think it's because you remind him of his nephews. He loved those boys to death. They died when they were teenagers, a car accident. I never met them, but he always speaks fondly of them.” Fiona fell silent for a moment. “Well, I gotta get back to it. Sam, enjoy your new ride. Take good care of her.” She tossed him the keys, and with a wave of her hand, she sauntered back over to her waiting father.

Sam got into the driver's door, taking a moment to appreciate the feel of the steering wheel. Dean got into the passenger seat, watching Sam's face. “Go ahead and start her up Sammy.” Sam turned the keys in the ignition, and with but a moment of hesitation, the engine turned over, a dull roar that belied a huge amount of power. Sam's eyes went wide, getting the same look in them that he got when he saw Dean naked.

Dean smiled. “It's okay to drive her Sammy, she's not going to explode.” Sam shifted into drive, and the big car started to move, the engine changing in pitch as it slid forward. Sam settled back into the seat, both hands on the wheel as he drove. “Dean this is fucking awesome. Just...” Sam didn't even have words to describe what he was feeling right now. He drove Dean back over to where the Impala was parked. Before Dean got out, he turned and said “I've never been able to really say this before, but... race you home? Winner tops tonight.” Dean winked, and Sam said “You're on. See you at home.” Dean kissed him, hard and deep, and then got out. Sam licked his lips as he watched Dean's ass walk over to the Impala.

Sam pulled out ahead of Dean, the model of perfect driving as he left the city, Dean close behind. As soon as they were on the highway, looking around for cops, Sam floored the accelerator and the big car shot forward, the big 427 cubic inch engine a heady roar in Sam's ears. He swore that he could see Dean's surprise in the mirror behind him as he rocketed away. Sam let out a whoop of happiness, not a care in the world as he drove home.

. . .

Dean was shaking with adrenaline as he pulled into the bunker's garage later that evening. He saw Sam perched on the hood of his car, a smug look of victory on his face. Dean smiled and shook his head, shutting off the Impala. He got out and crossed over to Sam. “How long have you been home?”

Sam got down off the hood and started to head inside. “About thirty minutes. Even got to stop and pick up a bite to eat.” They climbed up to the kitchen, hot deli sandwiches and an apple pie for Dean on the table. They sat down to eat, sitting across from each other. “Dean, she drives like a charm.”

Dean swallowed the bite he was chewing on. “Obviously a fast one too. Sam I didn't even see you for the last ninety miles. Didn't pick up the 5-0, did you?”

“Nope. Didn't see a single cop the whole way home. Pissed off a few minivans though. But then again, I would be too if I got bypassed by a nearly fifty year old monster. I think that's what I'm gonna call it – Monster. Because fucking hell if that thing doesn't sound like one.” Sam took another bite of sandwich, a little mustard dribbling from the corners of his mouth.

Dean finished his sandwich and started in on the pie. “I'm glad you like it Sammy, really.” They finished their meal in comfortable silence, thinking about the day's events. It was odd, doing this with Sam. It felt normal, like something that everyone else did. Dean decided that they needed more of that in their life. Maybe it was just him, but it was a day that he would remember for a very long time. Dean finished up his meal and stood. “Remember our deal earlier?”

Sam looked up at him, lust creeping into his eyes. “Sure do Dean.”

“I'm gonna go get cleaned up. You take as much time as you need down here. I'll be waiting upstairs when you're done, alright?” Sam saluted, and Dean turned to leave.

. . .

Later that night, blissed out and sated from one of the best orgasms he'd had in recent memory, Sam lay with his head on Dean's chest, hand tracing lazy circles over Dean's torso. “Maybe we should race more often Dean. That was fucking fantastic.” Dean chuckled, a low sound that made Sam's heart beat a little faster. “You said it baby boy. If I didn't know any better, I'd say speed is a turn on for you.” He drew Sam up to kiss him, and Sam willingly let him in, the taste of Sam still on him from where he had rimmed him earlier. Sam put his arms around him holding Dean close to him. The sex was always fantastic, but Sam liked the after sex better, Dean all loose and loving with him, just warm feelings and satisfaction.

Sam broke the kiss and looked Dean in the eye. “You finally did it today.”

Dean gave him a slightly curious look. “Did what?”

“You introduced me as your husband.” Sam blushed, afraid Dean would turn away for pointing it out, but Dean didn't. Instead he ran a hand through Sam's hair, looking him deep in the eyes. “Cause you are Sammy. Maybe not on paper, but as far as I'm concerned, you are. Best one in the world too.”

Sam could feel a swell of emotion in him. “I stand by my opinion that you're actually a big old softie.”

“A softie with a good body and mad knife skills.”

Sam laughed. “Of course.” Sam kissed him on the nose. “I love you Dean. In more ways than I can count.” He rolled off of Dean and settled down onto his pillow.

“Love you too Sammy.” Sam sighed contentedly as Dean put an arm around his shoulders, his eyelids already drooping with sleep.

. . .

Sam had taken it upon himself to proof his car against the supernatural, and after three days of working and not letting Dean disturb him, he was almost done. He wiped a glove covered hand over his forehead, trying to alleviate the sweat that was currently running down his brow. It was the height of summer, and the garage didn't have air conditioning like the rest of the place. Along with demon and everything else proofing, he had set out to replace some of the parts that were more worn than others. He had found several repair and replacement manuals in the library, and thanks to the mojo that Cas had instilled in the Bat Cave's garage, he had everything he needed on hand readily.

He was currently lying across the front seat, upside down and under the dashboard, finishing up installing a premium audio system that he had actually gone out and bought instead of having Cas make appear. He was proud of his car. Not only had he found it himself, but he was the one making all of the changes, fixing anything that needed to be fixed, and making it his own. He heard footsteps approaching, and he slid out from underneath the dash, seeing who his visitor was.

It was Dean, holding a plate with a very appealing looking burger on it, a cold beer in his other hand. Dean stared at him for a moment, taking in Sam. He was wearing a white tank top, covered in grease and dirt on all of the visible surfaces of his skin. The sweat made his shirt cling to him appealingly, and Dean felt himself getting hard. Very, very hard.

“I uh... I brought you some lunch Sammy.” Sam shucked off his gloves and took the contents of Dean's hands from him, leaning against the side of his car, relishing the burger. Sam had decided that he loved them, but only if Dean made them. Burger juice dripped down Sam's fingers, and he made a show of catching it with his tongue, taking swallows of beer with his mouth wrapped around the head of the bottle, knowing full well that he was making Dean squirm. Dean watched Sam's throat move as he greedily drank down the cool liquid, suddenly wanting to lick Sam from his mouth all the way down to his cock.

Sam finished the sandwich and drained the rest of the beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Fucking delicious Dean, thanks.” He set aside the empty beer bottle and wiped his hands on the back of his pants. He noticed Dean leering at him, and he stretched, making sure Dean got a good long look at his body, letting his shirt ride up just enough to where Dean could see his treasure trail.

“Can I help you Dean?” Sam held his body open, waiting to see if Dean would accept the invitation. “You know, we haven't really broken Monster in properly yet.” He stepped closer to Dean, heat radiating from him. “I've never had sex in my own car, and I can think of a guy who could definitely help with that.” Sam stood close enough to where he could run a hand up Dean's front, trailing his fingers all the way up to Dean's face. “You know him Dean?”

Dean's eyes were hooded with lust, the combination of raw maleness that Sam was projecting along with Sam's seductive tone making it harder and harder to refuse him. Sam had been working hard the last few days, to the point where he had been too tired for sex, and Dean could tell that he wanted it just as badly as he did.

Dean flicked his eyes up Sam's face. “Sure do Sammy. About six feet tall, green eyes, drives an Impala?”

Sam pulled on Dean's waist, closing the gap between them. “That's him. I hear he's an expert at breaking in cars for proper use.” Sam ran his eyes all the way down Dean's body, then back up again. “Kinda feel like he's here right now, actually.”

“He is. And he's more than-” Dean's words were cut off as his mouth was suddenly full of Sam's tongue, and he moaned as Sam bit at his bottom lip, his hands moving to cup Dean's ass and walk him backwards to lean against the edge of Sam's car. Dean put his hands around the back of Sam's neck, drawing his head down further. It didn't feel like the kiss could get any deeper, but it did. Sam moved a hand to rub Dean's erection through his jeans, and the moan he got in return made Sam rock hard instantly, his erection straining against his suddenly uncomfortable jeans.

Dean tugged at the hem of Sam's tank top, indicating that he wanted it off of him. Sam stepped back and lifted his arms, the shirt gone as Dean flung it to the ground. “Fucking hell Sammy you look...” He licked a stripe up Sam's throat, letting his actions speak for him instead. Sam tilted his head backwards, giving Dean all of the access he wanted. Dean didn't seem to care in the least that he was greasy and sweaty. If anything, it turned Dean on that much more.

Dean licked his way all the way down Sam's sweat covered torso, a heady mixture of salt and heat, along with something that was just Sam. He swirled his tongue in Sam's navel, his brother letting out a moan at the feeling. He moved down further, unclasping Sam's jeans with practiced hands, and pulled his jeans down, Sam's boxer-briefs tenting outward, the head of his cock poking out from under the left leg of them. Dean pulled them down as well, burying his nose in the heady musk of Sam's pubes as he stroked him.

Sam relaxed back against the car more, Dean looking up at him with loving eyes. “Smells so fucking sexy Sammy. I like you dirty.” He moved and licked a trail up the underside of Sam's cock, making his knees go that much weaker. “Fucking need you in my mouth Sammy. Want to eat up all that Sammy-taste.” He placed the head in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it, his other hand shuttling back and forth over Sam's length. Dean felt the hot saltiness of Sam's precum spread over his tongue, and he lapped it up eagerly. He sank his mouth down another inch onto Sam's cock, just past his circumcision scar, letting Sam enjoy the slow torture of going down on him.

Sam clearly wasn't in the waiting mood. He place a hand on the back of Dean's head, gently pressing down on it. Dean opened his mouth wider, taking Sam all the way down, but not as quickly as Sam wanted, causing Sam to buck his hips forward, seeking more of the delightful wetness that was Dean's mouth. “C'mon Dean, need you so bad. Need you to suck me so fucking bad Dean.” Dean cast his eyes upwards and winked, his mouth a tight seal around Sam's length. He then began to ever so slowly bob his head up and down on Sam's cock, keeping his cheeks good and hollow, wanting Sam to feel how tight he could go. Sam put his head back, litanies of praise spilling forth from his lips for Dean. It fueled Dean's desires, hearing Sam talk like that, and he began to move a little faster, making sure Sam felt every bit of his willing mouth, wanting to make Sam feel good.

Sam kept a hand on Dean's head, running his fingers through his short hair, not wanting Dean to stop, not deny him this pleasure. He felt like he was going to cum right there. Three days without being intimate with Dean should have been a crime, because it was always sinfully good. Not that Sam ever had qualms about doing this anymore.

Dean came off of Sam's thickness, gasping for air. “Fucking swear it gets bigger every time Sammy.” Sam drew him up, kissing the mixture of saliva and precum away from Dean's mouth. “You suck me so damn good Dean. Fucking swear it.” He kissed Dean hard, putting a great deal of pressure behind it as he fisted Dean's shirt, his hand disappearing underneath it to run his hands over Dean's body, feeling the hot skin underneath his fingertips. Dean stepped back and took his shirt off as Sam undid his pants and pushed them down, taking his boxers with them. He drew Dean back to him and stroked their cocks at the same time, earning himself a deep groan from his older brother, that sound speaking of how turned on Dean was right now.

“Want to eat you out Sammy. Want to tongue-fuck you, want to make you come apart for me.” He moved Sam to lay him across the front seat, glad that Sam's car was actually big enough to where they could comfortably do this. He pulled Sam's jeans off over his boots, and spread Sam's legs wide. He took a moment to drink in that sight, Sam splayed open, cock hard, mouth hanging open and covered in sweat and streaks of dirt. It was the hottest fucking thing that he had ever scene.

Dean licked his way from the space behind Sam's balls, which made Sam cry out deliciously, moving his mouth down to the light pink of Sam's entrance. He positioned himself so that he could breathe in the musk of Sam, burning the scent deep into his brain. Sam never smelled bad down there, just manly. That was the only way that Dean had to describe it. He formed his lips into an “O,” blowing warm air across the darkening entrance. Sam gasped, a hand running down to place itself in Dean's hair. Dean stuck out his tongue, teasing at Sam, promising but not delivering. He wanted to make Sam beg.

“Dean please... please....”

“Please what Sammy, you gotta tell me.”

“Please eat me out. Need your tongue in me so bad. Need to taste myself on your lips. Need you Dean, just you, and only you.” Sam's voice was broken up with arousal.

Dean licked a stripe over Sam's hole, just one, long, slow brush of contact. “Getting warmer Sammy.”

“You do it so fucking good for me Dean. Know just how to touch me, just how to make me want you. Christ Dean, I can't get enough...” Dean licked him one more time.

“Never, ever fucking enough. Thought about this for so long Dean, thought about you licking me good and open for you in my own car.”

Dean finally gave Sam what he promised. At first, he kitten-licked all around the space of Sam's entrance, slow, small licks that got Sam to mewl even louder with pleasure. Dean let Sam's sounds spur him on, and he just let himself get lost in Sam, the taste that was just him, not caring about anything else in the world. He felt precum run out from the end of his own cock, and he reached down a hand to stroke himself as he worshiped at the altar of his younger brother. Sam raised his knees and held them, opening himself up completely to Dean.

Dean's tongue pressed hard into the tight ring of muscle, hitting spots that he hadn't before, the new sensations making Sam's body convulse with pleasure. He reached up with his other hand and stroked Sam in time with himself, knowing that there wasn't going to last long if he didn't get inside Sam soon.

Sam pushed on Dean's head, breathing heavily, body and face flushed red with arousal. “Need... need you inside me Dean. Please. Please fuck... please fuck me.” Sam was so blissed out right now that it seemed like every word was a labor for him to say.

“That what you want Sammy? You want your big brother to fuck you in the front seat like some tramp? Can't even wait to get home, you need it so bad right now?” Dean was just letting his filthy talk flow out.

“Yes Dean, yes! Please, can't wait for you anymore, need you so fucking bad right now.” Sam's eyes were wet with tears of pleasure. “Please...please...please”

Dean moved and drew Sam's face up to his, and he kissed him, letting the taste of him onto Sam's tongue. Dean said around the kiss “So fucking beautiful baby boy. So, so beautiful.” He knew right then that he couldn't deny Sam what he wanted any longer. “Gonna fill you up so good now Sammy, gonna make you feel good.” Dean laid Sam back down on the seat, glad that the Galaxie sat higher off the ground than the Impala, where they had done this so many times before.

Sam reached into the glove compartment, already having put a bottle of lube there, and got himself good and ready for Dean. Dean watched him the whole time, his hands caressing and rubbing Sam's thighs. Sam reached down and worked the lube into Dean's cock, getting him good and wet, Dean's head dipping in pleasure as he felt Sam's hand on him.

Sam tugged at him, pressing his boot clad feet to the small of Dean's back to press him forward. Dean felt the head of his cock resting right against the warmth of Sam, and he felt Sam draw in a deep breath. “I'm ready Dean.” Those words carried a lot more weight than usual, saying in them that he was always ready for him, ready to follow him wherever he went, to the ends of the Earth, ready to do what he needed for him.

Dean pressed his hips forward, sinking into Sam with one long, slow move, Sam clenching down around him. Sam's eyes rolled back in his head as Dean slid all the way home, a single tear of pleasure burning a trail down his left cheek. There was no way he ever wanted to part with this, the pleasure that Dean made him feel.

Dean slowly began to rock his hips, letting Sam adjust, his body falling into that perfect sync with Sam's that had been there since the beginning, two bodies that fit together like two pieces of a beautiful puzzle. Dean held one hand against the pillar of the door, the other held Sam's leg up as he thrusted into Sam, over and over again, getting faster and faster. Sam cried out with bliss that much louder every time Dean slid back in, hitting his sweet spot every time.

“Fucking love this Dean. Fucking love you fucking me, God Dean just so, so good.” Sam held the back of seat with one hand, the other steadying himself against the dashboard. It was hot, really hot, between the heat of the garage and the heat of Dean inside him, and he felt like he was going to pass out from overwhelming bliss. He decided that if he did, it would be a good thing. He watched a drop of sweat drip off Dean's chin and hit his grease and dirt covered body, carving a wet trail down his abs. He felt Dean's cock hitting his prostate over and over again, and he felt the sensation of orgasm building low in his body.

Dean must have felt Sam's muscles contract around him, and he started to thrust faster, hands moving to hold Sam's legs open, tilting his hips upward to go in harder and deeper. Sam's eyes were screwed shut, his mouth open, a constant stream of moans coming from his lips.

Dean reached out and touched Sam's face. “Gonna cum for you soon Sammy. Wanna see those pretty eyes when I do Sam.” Sam opened his eyes, gaze boring deep into Dean, and that was all it took. Dean came, a wordless, broken noise uttering from his mouth as he came, and Sam's climax followed right after, hot spurts of cum arcing out to hit him in the chest and stomach. After an eternity, or so it felt to them, Dean put his hands out, holding onto the door frame, still buried deep in Sam.

Sam was just lying there on the seat in front of him, feeling like a boneless mass of muscle and endorphins. He moved his head to look at at Dean, and his face opened up in a wide smile. “Wow.”

Dean returned his smile. “Right?”

Sam sat up, and Dean pulled out of him. He got out of the car and put his arms around Dean's neck, kissing him hungrily. He felt cum leak out of his ass, but at the moment he didn't care, because he all he could do was get lost in Dean. Sam slowed down the kiss, and just let it deepen, holding Dean close to him.

Sam broke the kiss and said “Want you to hear something Dean.” Sam reached into the car, turning the ignition just so that the speakers would work. He pulled up a playlist called “Dean” on his iPod, and soon the rich sounds of Etta Jame's voice filled the garage, singing “At Last.” Sam got up and held onto Dean's hips. “This song was the one I listened to the morning after that first time Dean.” He started to sway back and forth, Dean's body held against his. “I still sing it to myself sometimes, after I feel like the love we make is meaningful. Not that it ever isn't, but Dean... today was special.”

Dean just buried his head into Sam's shoulder, the unabashed tenderness of Sam's words and actions making his head swim. “Sammy...” Dean couldn't believe his elation right now. He normally gave Sam shit for stuff like this, but he secretly loved it. “You... this.... Sam... just perfect.” He felt Sam smile against him, and he suddenly didn't want to leave Sam's embrace for awhile, in spite of the fact that they were both naked in a garage. It wasn't something Dean ever expected, but here he was, with Sam, the love of his life, slow dancing to Etta James, and loving every second of it.

. . .

That night, Castiel stuck his head in Sam and Dean's door, checking on them like he did every night. He smiled, his heart warming at seeing them wrapped in each other's arms. He was proud of them, knowing that there would never be strife between them. He said a silent prayer for them, knowing that today had been one of a kind, an event that made Cas himself feel the love between them. “Sleep well, guys.” He bowed towards them, and shutting the door, turned towards his own room, happy.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the final chapter in this story, but I will be putting it on hold for the time being.

 As much as Dean loved having a roof over his head, there is still one thing that he hated doing.

Laundry.

Dean was currently in the Bat Cave's laundry room, which consisted of four massive washers and dryers, all from the 1950s. They worked just fine, but Dean had trouble in figuring out how they worked. This time was no different. He muttered and cursed as he pressed buttons, trying his damndest to get the washer to work. He was out of clean clothes, and he was angry. He and Sam had just gotten back from a three week long hunt out in the wilderness of North Dakota, tracking and killing three different black dogs. The last one had been a blood bath, and Dean's right leg was currently wrapped in a cast, and Sam's left arm was broken. Had it not been for quick reactions on both of their parts, they would both have been far worse off for wear.

Dean was thinking that this whole hunting thing was starting to get old.

He finally gave up on washing his clothes, and fished his cell phone out of his pocket, calling Sam.

Sam answered after a couple of rings. “Yeah?”

“Sammy, where are you?”

“Kitchen. Why, do you need something?”

Dean sighed. “I need help in the laundry room.”

“I'll be right there.” The other end of the line went dead, and Dean leaned against the wall, waiting for Sam. He absolutely hate being defeated by something so simple as a washer, but combined with his already heightened irritability and the fact that he was exhausted of travel, he was ready to just give up.

Sam came in just a moment later, and he saw the defeated look on Dean's face. “You know Dean, you don't have to let the washer get you down so much. It's okay if we replace these antiques.”

“I know Sammy it's just... it's a matter of pride, you know?”

“Yeah, and this is the third time you've given up.” Dean scowled at him, but Sam wasn't backing down from this. He stepped closer to Dean, pushing just a couple of buttons and the washer turned on and began to fill the water. “It's not hard Dean, really.”

Dean shoved Sam aside, muttering under his breath about know it all baby brothers and stupid fucking washing machines. Sam shook his head and left the laundry room, leaving Dean to seethe by himself.

As Dean loaded his clothes in the washer, he noticed that they were looking a lot more threadbare. How long had it been since he and Sam had gotten new clothes? Aside from their fed attire, they hadn't gotten new street clothes in a really long time, and maybe, just maybe, some modern stuff in the Bat Cave wouldn't hurt. After all, Sam had his fancy computers, and Dean had installed the biggest TV he could find in one of the former rec rooms, complete with a huge couch and surround sound.

He picked up his crutches and left the laundry room, finding no purpose in just sitting around and waiting for his clothes to be done. He went into the kitchen, where Sam was valiantly trying to cut up one of the steaks that he and Dean had prepared last night after they had gotten home. Dean could tell that Sam was getting frustrated, only having the use of one arm.

He hobbled over to Sam, sitting down in the chair next to him and said “Let me.” Sam moved aside, looking rather embarrassed. In spite of the fact that they were both grown men, Dean didn't mind doing stuff like this for Sam when he couldn't do it himself. That was the big brother in him, never being able to quite let that go.

“Last time I cut up your food was when you had that flu in seventh grade.”

Sam pulled his plate back over to him. “Yeah, and I was embarrassed as hell, my big brother having to do that for me. At thirteen I should have been able to do it myself. But I could barely move, much less eat.” Sam looked at Dean, fixing him with an affectionate look.

Dean's irritability started to melt a litle. “I've never really stopped taking care of you, have I?”

Sam smiled. “I guess not. That's what you're best at Dean, taking care of people.” Sam put down his fork and scooted closer to Dean. “Especially me.” Sam got a look in his eye, the one that was there when he wanted Dean. He raised his right hand to cup the back of Dean's head, and pulled him in for a kiss, and Dean closed his eyes, letting Sam's lips take away his frustrations. Dean opened his mouth and Sam's tongue was suddenly in it, licking his way in, and Dean, in spite of the fact that he was hopped up on painkillers and he was exhausted beyond belief, felt himself get hard.

Dean broke the kiss and took Sam's hand from the back of his head and pressed it to his crotch, and Sam's pupils got wider with lust. He gave him a knowing look, and Sam, as well as he could, got down on his knees. Dean lifted his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor beside him, and Sam did the same, careful of his arm. Sam tugged at Dean's shorts, easing them down the thick plaster of Dean's leg cast. Dean hadn't bothered with underwear that morning, and his cock sprang free with a loud thwack against his stomach. Sam kissed his way up Dean's injured leg, his good arm rubbing and caressing its way up the other.

When Sam got to Dean's cock, he placed a gentle kiss on the underside, letting it rest on his face while he looked up at Dean, an impish grin on his face. “Whatcha waiting for Sammy?”

“Gotta ask nice Dean.” Sam just barely let the tip of his tongue tease up Dean's length, drawing a hiss from Dean at the contact.

“C'mon Sammy, want to feel your mouth on me.” Dean tried to push himself forward, the teasing warmth of Sam's breath making him shudder every time Sam exhaled. Sam backed his face away, just out of Dean's reach. “What's that Dean?”

“Sammy, please, want you to suck me. I need that fucking hot mouth on my dick. Been too damn long baby boy.” Dean's voice was just on the edge of begging. Over the course of their last hunt they'd barely gotten anytime with each other, not like how they both so intensely desired.

“Come on Dean, you can do it.” Sam ran his good hand up Dean's thigh, teasing him more.

“Sammy please, I am begging you. Want to cum for you so bad. Need you to make me feel good.” Sam could tell that Dean barely had a hold on his control, between his exhaustion, the painkillers and the need that was coursing through him right now.

Sam smiled and in one slow motion went down on Dean, taking his considerable length all the way into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks to form a good, tight seal on him. Dean's hips bucked forward as Sam swirled his tongue around his older brother's cock head, teasing around the crown of it. Sam tasted precum, and he opened his mouth more to get at the taste of it. Dean's cock pulsed in time with his heartbeat, his blood thundering loudly in his ears. Sam watched Dean's face as he bobbed up and down on his cock, letting his hair fall over his face, giving little twitches of his head to clear it so that Dean could see the want in his eyes.

Dean reached out and placed a hand on the back of Sam's head, gathering a fist full of Sam's long brown hair, pulling at it just enough to where Sam felt a twinge of pain in his scalp. Sam moaned, and the vibrations sent Dean's senses into overdrive as he felt the vibration of Sam's voice on his cock. Sam began to suck even harder, using long, twisting movements of his hand in conjunction with his tongue and mouth, and Dean closed his eyes and leaned his head back, giving control over to Sam.

Sam slowed his efforts down, moving slowly, letting Dean enjoy himself more. It had been a long time since he had given him a long, deep blowjob, and he loved giving them to Dean, taking care of him in only the way Sam could.

“So good baby boy.” Dean felt his irritation from earlier fade completely, now replaced by Sam and the pleasure he was giving him. A part of his brain said that maybe they should stop since they were in the kitchen and Castiel could walk in on them at any moment, but at this point he couldn't care less. Let him look, he decided.

Sam reached down and cupped Dean's balls, stimulating them and adding to the sensations that was currently traveling through Dean's cock. Dean felt his toes curl, and he hooked his good leg around Sam's back, pulling him closer. Dean heard the chair under him creak as he shifted his weight forward a little more, opening his legs up as wide as he could for Sam. Sam took advantage of the opportunity and moved his hand from Dean's balls down to tease at his entrance, running his finger around the edge of it. Although Dean was in no shape for Sam to fuck him, and frankly neither was Sam, he still wanted Sam to make him lose it, to give himself over completely to Sam's stimulations.

Sam pulled up off of Dean's cock, spit and precum trailing from it to his tongue. He smiled up at Dean. “Look at you, spreading your legs for me. What is it you want Dean? Want me to finger fuck you? Want me to touch you deep inside, make you cum hard?”

“God yes Sammy. Need to feel you, need you to make...” Whatever Dean was going to say next was lost as Sam eased a spit-slick finger into Dean's hot, tight entrance, crooking a finger and brushing over Dean's swollen prostate. Dean moaned, and Sam did his best to hold him steady in the chair. Maybe doing this in the kitchen wasn't the best idea after all. He slowly drug that finger in and out of Dean, watching Dean's cock bounce in time he hit his sweet spot. After a few moments, he added another finger, and Dean cried out even louder, his voice reverberating off the walls of the space. Sam bent his head down and took Dean halfway into his mouth, and he sucked and moved in time with his fingers.

Dean felt like he had died and gone to heaven. Sam was doing his best to remove all of his pent up irritation and frustration out through the end of his cock, and Dean felt himself getting closer to orgasm. Sam must have felt his muscles tense, because he began to fuck in and out of Dean with his fingers a little harder, pressing against his sweet spot more, teasing Dean to climax ever so slowly. Sam wasn't exactly relentless, but Dean felt all of his defenses go down and finally just let himself go, and two seconds later he came, Sam's fingers buried deep inside him, hot cum flooding the inside of Sam's mouth, Dean crying “Sammy” over and over again.

Sam waited until he was sure Dean had came every last drop, and he got up off the floor, and used his good hand to pull Dean's head to his, closing his mouth over it and pushing what he had managed to catch of Dean's cum into his older brother's mouth. Tasting himself like that immediately made Dean hard again, and Sam reached down to free himself of his jeans, a large wet spot having formed on the front where he had been hard and leaking ever since they had started. He gathered up some precum, slicking it over his own cock, and then took some and ran it over Dean's. Sam's mouth was still on Dean's, open mouthed kisses that had caused Dean's cum to spread around their lips, their saliva making it drip down their chins. Sam took a moment to pull back and look at Dean, who had this fucked out expression on his face, smiling like an idiot.

“Whatcha smiling at Dean?” Sam nearly came just from looking Dean's face and lust blown pupils.

“Fucking you Sam. So goddamn sexy.” Sam smiled and kissed Dean again, which Dean broke after just a moment. “Got an idea Sammy. Can you get up on the table for me and lay down?” Sam complied, moving aside the plate he had gotten out earlier, the steak that was on it long forgotten. Dean tugged Sam's jeans the rest of the way off, and pushed against Sam's chest, indicating that he wanted him to lay down. Sam did, and Dean moved his chair so that he was facing Sam, watching his hard cock pulse with his heart beat. It was leaking precum steadily, and Dean licked his lips as he watched some of it run down Sam's length, trailing through the dark thatch of pubic hair at the base of his torso. Dean was suddenly glad that he had the use of two hands, knowing exactly what he was going to do so Sam.

Dean moved to blow warm air across Sam's hole, giving a tease of what was to cum. Sam made a noise that sounded halfway between contentment and burning want, and Dean pulled Sam's hips forward, letting his long legs rest on his shoulder, and Dean went to town on him. He licked deep into Sam, using his hands to spread him apart, plunging his hole in and out. Sam reached down and started to jack himself, the combination of his own hand and Dean's tongue making his already heightened arousal that much more exquisite. Dean moaned against Sam's entrance, and the vibrations it caused went straight to Sam's cock, making it even harder.

Sam stroked himself faster, and Dean used his other hand to rub Sam's thigh, the extra sensation burning hot trails into Sam's skin. It was heaven, he told himself. In spite of their injuries, they could still find ways around them to pleasure each other, to love each other. Dean felt Sam's muscles start to pulse and quicken around him, and he knew Sam was close to orgasm. He clamped down around Sam's hole, tongue plunging in and out, and Sam stroked himself further, and it was but a moment more when Dean felt hot cum run down his nose, Sam coming apart above him, cum running from the end of his cock like a river, and he licked Sam through his orgasm, Sam's hips bucking against Dean's face.

Sam finally came down from his high, and relaxed back on the table, chest heaving, body flushed red. He picked his head up and smiled down at Dean, and they both got caught up in the pure pleasure thrumming through their bodies. Sam scooted forward to lean down and kiss Dean hungrily, using his good hand to cup the back of Dean's head.

After breaking apart to gasp for air, Sam smiled down at him and said “I was going to say something earlier but uh... I kind of forgot.”

Dean chuckled. “It's alright. I did too. And... thank you.”

“For what Dean?”

“Knowing just what I need. “

Sam smiled and kissed him again. “Anytime Dean, really. Also, I'm thinking that getting a more sturdy table was a good idea.” Sam patted the wood underneath him.

“Just have to wipe it down before we eat again.”

Sam smirked. “But you just did.”

Dean cuffed Sam on the shoulder. “You know what I meant bitch.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Come on – let's get dressed before Cas decides to walk in.”

. . .

A few weeks later, their injuries were well on the way to recovery. Dean could now move freely save for a sturdy boot on his lower leg, and Sam's arm was now in a brace that allowed him to do pretty much everything save for shoot a gun steadily. Plenty of time to relearn though.

Sam was under Monster changing the oil, humming along with the AC/DC tape currently playing in the stereo that he had bought. He heard footsteps approaching, and then felt a foot tap against his leg. He rolled out from under the car, and looked up seeing Dean standing there, a beer in his hand.

“Look at you, changing your own oil. Good on you Sammy.” Dean gave him a warm smile.

Sam rose, taking the beer from Dean's hand and drinking half of it in one gulp. “I learned from you. Kinda hard to forget a good teacher.”

Dean smiled and leaned against the hood of the car next to Sam. “I've been thinking about something Sammy.”

“Alright.”

“I think we need to sit down and seriously consider retirement. For good. Get real jobs, not this.”

Sam turned and looked him dead in the face. “You're sure about this?”

“Sammy, it's not worth coming this close to losing you on a regular basis. That last hunt Sam – I thought we were done for. I'm tired of it. No more hunting, no more close scrapes with death. I want to be... normal. Well as normal as we can be. We've saved the world plenty of times over now. I think it's time to hand over the reins.” The firm set of Dean's jaw told Sam that he was serious.

“What would we even do Dean? This is kind of a lifestyle for us. An awful, dangerous one but...” Sam really wasn't sure what to say next.

“That's just it Sammy! We can do literally anything we want. Hell we can open a business, one that doesn't involve getting shot at or nests of evil shit. You can go back to law school, I can open a restoration shop... Sam, we've got the world at our fingertips here.” The look in Dean's eye was one of excitement.

Sam caught on to it, and he smiled back. “Sam and Dean Winchester, ordinary citizens?”

Dean moved to hold Sam at arm's length. “Just think about it Sam. I never thought I would be the one to propose this but... I want it. Want it to be me and you, not me and you and the monster we're hunting that day. I mean we take care of what we need to do but beyond that Sam – I want normal.”

Sam looked at him, a thoughtful look on his face. “That last hunt was a bitch, wasn't it?”

“Damn straight.”

“And I really don't like being nearly sliced and diced on a regular basis either.”

“Got way too many scars already Sammy.” Dean traced a faint one on the side of Sam's face with the fingers of his left hand.

“And it would mean we could spend more time doing this.” He pulled Dean forward for a kiss.

Dean broke it after a moment. “Especially that Sammy.”

“I don't know Dean, sure you can handle staring Death in the face on a regular basis?”

“Oh I know I can. Fucker's ugly anyway.”

Sam smiled. “When can I hand in my resignation?”

It was Dean's turn to kiss Sam. “As soon as you want.”

“Consider it done.”

Dean felt like he had the world on a string.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was busy reading an essay for his newly resumed law courses and folding some of his clothes when Dean came striding into their bedroom, looking triumphant. He plopped down on the bed next to Sam and kissed him, hard and brief.

“I take it you got the building you wanted?” Dean had gone out earlier to look for a suitable place for the body shop he was planning on opening.

“That and the land around it for a hella cheap price. Sam, I have a whole lot to work with.” The glint of happiness in Dean's eye warmed Sam's heart.

Sam returned his smile. “That's terrific Dean, really. When do you open?”

Dean rose from the bed and started to take off his suit. “I'm hoping sometime before the end of the month. I still have to find a couple of guys to help me though. Can't do it all by myself.”

Sam looked down at his essay, and then back to Dean. “You know.... I could help.”

Dean tossed his tie into his dresser. “Thought you wanted to be a lawyer Sammy.”  
Sam scoffed. “Not as much as I used to. Reading over all this stuff has kind of turned me off to the whole thing. And I never actually got into law school, you know. I was just going for an interview to see if I would.” Sam smiled sadly as his long ago dream ghosted through his mind.

“You know sometimes I wish I could have gotten you there for it. I know it meant a lot to you Sammy.” Dean pulled a pair of worn, comfortable jeans up his legs.

Sam looked at him. “It's alright. Besides, if I had Dean, probably wouldn't be hear with you.” Sam stood and crossed over to where Dean was standing. “And I'd much rather be around your hot ass than in some stuffy courtroom anyway.” Sam reached forward and pulled Dean by his belt loops to draw him in for a kiss, bending Dean backwards slightly.

Dean broke the kiss after a moment. “You sure about this Sammy?”

“Fuck yeah Dean. I promise I'd work hard, and you know that you need some extra lifting power. I can do that. Besides, I could handle the numbers and whatnot too. And when no ones around...” He reached around and squeezed Dean's ass. “You could fuck me against the worktable.”

Dean licked his lips at the though. “You're fucking hot when you're greasy too Sam.”

Sam dipped his head and nipped lightly against Dean's throat. “That's the spirit Dean.” He kissed his way back up Dean's jaw back to his mouth. “But only if you want me there Dean. I know that cars are your thing.”

Dean put a hand against the side of Sam's face. “Well the way I see it Sam we've been in business together pretty much all of our lives, so why stop now. Besides...” He pulled Sam in for a long, deep kiss, sliding his tongue against his, feeling that little shiver he always got when he kissed Sam. “I think that doing that a few times during working hours would do me wonders.”

Sam smiled. “Want to see my resume?”

Dean walked Sam backwards towards the bed, laying down on top of him when Sam fell back onto it. “I already know that you're good and qualified but I think I need to see something a little more... physical. Prove that you can lift heavy objects, have enough energy to work for long periods of time.” Dean reached down and rubbed Sam's hardening dick through his jeans. “I know that you come with your own tools too. That definitely helps.”

Sam pulled Dean down for another kiss, claiming his mouth hungrily. He wrapped his hands around Dean's bare shoulders, his skin still warm from where his suit had been on earlier. He massaged the muscles there as Dean fucked his mouth with his tongue, and Sam responded by opening his mouth up more so that Dean could taste as much of him as he wanted.

Dean ground his hips against Sam's, the hard line of his cock rubbing against Sam's. Sam moaned, the broken, needy sound that he made when he wanted Dean badly. It only served to make Dean even harder, and he reached down to pull Sam's shirt off. Sam beat him to it and tossed his shirt behind him, Dean's warm skin against his making him even hornier.

Dean moved from Sam's mouth and started to work on Sam's neck, finding that sweet spot right below Sam's jaw that he knew drove him wild. He kissed it and then gently sank his teeth into the soft flesh, making Sam moan loudly. “Fucking love that Dean.” Sam's hand moved down the back of Dean's loose jeans, passing under the waist band of his underwear to cup Dean's ass. In spite of the fact that they had gone two rounds last night to celebrate the fact that the injuries they had sustained on their last hunt had healed, Sam was very much full of the burning desire and want that he found himself feeling more and more ever since he and Dean's souls had been joined.

And he loved every second of it.

Right as Sam was about to move Dean off of him and tug his jeans off, Dean's phone rang. “Sorry Sammy, might be important.” Dean crawled across the bed to lay across it, and he picked it up from where he had laid it on the night stand. Once he had it in hand, Sam pulled him towards his body, spooning Dean and continuing to kiss and nip at Dean's neck, his other hand drawing lazy circles over Dean's stomach, getting closer and closer to where Dean's erection was straining against his jeans.

“Hello?” Dean was trying hard to keep his voice normal as he felt Sam's hand teasing his skin.

“Mr. Winchester? It's Ralph, from the bank. We have the deed ready, and your money in hand. You can open up as soon as you like.” Dean fought back a moan as Sam bit his earlobe. Dean reached behind himself to shove Sam off, but Sam held tight. “Thanks, uh...” Sam was currently running his hand down the front of Dean's jeans, grabbing at his cock. “I'll be around tomorrow to start planning, thanks Ralph.”

“No problem. Have a good night Mr. Winchester.” The other end of the line went dead and Dean turned and pinned Sam to the bed. “You're in trouble baby boy.” Sam grinned up at him, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

“You think you can get away with that sort of shit while I'm on the phone, don't you?”

Sam just smiled wider. “Yeah, I do.”

Dean got up off the bed, shifting his erection in his jeans. “Well someone's gonna be disappointed then.” Dean turned to leave the bedroom, but Sam was quick and came up behind Dean, wrapping his arms around him. He put his mouth right next to Dean's ear, dropping his voice, low and seductive. “What's the matter Dean, is your baby boy too much of a tease?” Hearing the pet name come out of Sam's mouth like that turned on something primal in Dean, and Dean pushed Sam backwards towards the bed.

“Oh you are so dead.” Dean's smile was evil.

. . .

Later that evening, Sam and Dean came into the kitchen, hair tousled by sex, both wearing blissed out expressions and hanging all over each other like a couple of teenagers. Castiel looked up from the book he was reading, regarding them both with a knowing look. “I figured that's what the two of you were doing.”

Sam pulled Dean to press against his body, kissing down his neck. “Yep.”

Dean outright giggled as Sam's stubble tickled at the spot behind his left ear. “Four rounds. Sam's a real uh, stallion these days.”

Cas smiled, still proud that he had bonded the two of them together. Dean moved over to the refrigerator, pulling out a few things to prepare for dinner. “Cas, I got a question for you.”

“Sure.”

“How would you like to work in my new shop?” Dean ran some water in the sink to let the ground beef for burgers thaw.

“What kind of shop?”

“Tell 'em Sam.”

“Well Cas, we've decided to retire from hunting.”

Cas nodded. “A wise decision, I might say.”

“And Dean wants to open a car and body restoration shop. I've already uh, signed my agreement to work with him and we were wondering if you wanted to be part of this. We could use your help Cas. You in?”

Cas thought for a moment. “I thought you wanted to be a lawyer Sam.”

Sam turned and looked at Dean, who was cutting up some vegetables. “I thought I did too. Trouble is I kind of want to spend as much time with him as possible.” Dean smiled at him, communicating _me too Sammy_ with his eyes.

Sam didn't realize that he was flat out staring at Dean until he felt Cas tug at his sleeve. “Sam?” Sam shook his head and turned to look at the angel. “I said I'm in, whatever I can do to help.”

Dean was a bit hard to hear over the sizzle of meat. “Boys, looks like we've got ourselves a business.”

. . .

The property that Dean had found wasn't in Lebanon, but the next county over, in a larger town. Sam followed Dean closely in Monster, Cas opting to just come over when he was needed. The first rays of the sun were peeking out through the clouds, the headlights of their cars scattering shadows. They had been working for over a week to get the place ready for business, clering the lot of debris, gathering the supplies they would need, putting out advertisements. They had both decided to call it “Winchester's Body and Restoration Shop.” Sam had proposed the idea of doing work on regular cars that had been damaged along with the restoration work. Although they weren't necessarily hard up for money thanks to what Castiel had given them, they both decided that they could continue to give back to the world, even if it was just fixing cars.

Sam backed the trailer that he was pulling into the garage, Dean watching carefully and signaling for him to stop. On it were tools and slabs of sheet metal, ready for shaping and use. Dean had insisted upon buying it all himself and not relying on Cas to provide for them. Sam had followed him to every place they shopped, keeping a list of things together as they bought them, knowing down to the last can of paint what they had. Dean had walked Sam through every step of what they would need, treating him as an equal in this matter, smiling and encouraging Sam along. Sam was a fast learner, and he held on to Dean's every word.

Sam shut off Monster's engine, the low roar suddenly gone. He got out, and began helping Dean unload. Dean had had custom overalls made for them – dark blue that had the business's logo on the back and their names on the front. It took awhile to unload all of the heavy metal and paint, but they got it done.

The morning sun was bright in the sky by the time they were ready to open the doors for business. Sure enough, after too long their first customer came along. A large Dodge pickup truck rolled up, towing a battered looking Plymouth Barracuda on a trailer. Sam and Dean stepped out of the garage, greeting their customer.

A large man in his late forties stepped out, trucker hat and sunglasses on his face. He walked towards Sam and Dean and stuck his hand out to them. “Saw you boys' advertisement in the paper and figured I would give you a try. George Williams' the name.” Sam and Dean shook his hand in turn.

Sam spoke up first. “What can we do for you Mr. Williams?”

George hooked a thumb back towards his truck. “I've got a show in a month and I need someone to help make the 'Cuda shine. I've done the engine myself, but the body work – I need an expert. Think the two of you can handle it?”

Dean put on his best smile. “You got it. Don't worry, with Sammy here she'll be in good hands.”

George tipped his hat at them. “Then I'll get her down and leave you to it.” Dean went to help him back the car down and Sam disappeared into the office, looking for the proper paperwork. Awhile later, George's car in place for work, and Dean doing a thorough look over of the car, they were ready.

. . .

After just a couple of months of being open, Winchester Body and Restoration had gained a firm reputation for quality work. As it turned out, Sam had a knack for shaping metal just so, and Dean's detailing work was gaining notoriety. They were constantly busy, and with Castiel helping a couple days a week, life was getting easier. Dean had Sam right next to him every day, working with him, and he had a home that had everything he could ever ask for. It almost seemed like the hunting days were a distant memory.

The late September sun was setting in the distance, the soft orange light coming through the windows of the shop. Sam was working on a 1950s Dodge, carefully using a paint gun to recreate the original black trim, eyes locked in concentration. Dean loved to watch Sam work, loved the concentration and utter devotion he put into it. Sam was an artist when it came to this sort of thing, and many a happy client had driven away with Sam's handiwork on their car.

Dean waited until Sam had to reload the paint gun before he came up behind him and put his arms around him. They were the only ones there, and it was past closing time anyway. Sam smiled as he looked for more paint. “Thought you had gone home Dean.”

“Nope. Wanted to stay and watch you work.”

Sam set down the contents of his hands on the work bench and turned in Dean's arms. “It's just paint, Dean, nothing special.”

Dean smiled up at him. “Couldn't help but notice it's the same look you get when you used to do research. It looks good on you Sammy. It's just... you.” Dean's eyes were soft, the sunset reflecting in them.

“I never thought I would love doing this as much as I do Dean, but I think this is something I could do forever.”

“How come Sammy?”

Sam leaned back against the workbench, pulling Dean forward with him. “I kinda wanted to be an artist when I was younger, wanted to paint, create, forge something beautiful. And now, I get to do that. I love knowing that people are happy because of something good I helped make better, not because I have the blood of some monster on my hands. And this is going to sound like the cheesiest thing ever, but a car's just another canvas. And being around you while I work Dean, it's an inspiration.” It was Sam's turn to smile now.

Dean kissed him gently on the lips. “Glad I can be here for it Sammy. Sure beats a salt and burn every other day, doesn't it?”

“Sure does. I'll take the smell of paint and grease over burning flesh any day.” Dean let go of Sam's shoulder and stepped back, gesturing towards the car behind him. “Did you want to finish this tonight or call it a day?” Dean could feel tiredness in his bones.

“I'll finish it Dean, you go on home. I'll be along soon, alright?” Sam's eyes were full of promise.

“Sure thing Sam. How does roast beef sound for supper?”

“Does that include more of that pie after dinner?”

Dean's smile had a hint of something darker in it. “If you want it could include a lot more.”

Sam's breath hitched at the suddenly lust filled look Dean gave him. “Yes.”

. . .

 

It was hot outside, for mid May. Ever since giving up the hunting life, Sam and Dean had gotten more and more comfortable with just being ordinary citizens, working ten hour days in their shop. For other people, this might have been boring, seeking something better. For them however, after a lifetime of near death experiences and experiencing horrible, horrible things that would make lesser men suffer eternally, it was what they wanted more than anything.

Sam was in the shop's office eating lunch when Dean came in, wiping sweat from his brow. He had gone out to get more paint an hour ago, leaving Sam by himself.

“Find what we were looking for Dean?” Sam set down his fork and wiped his hands.

“Sure did. Need some help unloading it though. You about done Sam?” Sam watched a rivulet of sweat disappear under the collar of Dean's overalls, and he suddenly wanted to see where it had gone. Sam licked his lips, his eyes hooding slightly with want.

“Sam?”

Sam shook his head. “Sorry Dean just... I'm coming.” Sam rose from his seat, and Dean held the door open for him, giving Sam a loud smack on the ass as he passed him. Sam whirled and tried to get one at Dean, but he was too fast. His older brother grinned wide, looking triumphant.

“Jerk.” Sam wasn't really up to chasing his brother at the moment.

“Just sore you couldn't get me.” Sam rolled his eyes at the smugness in Dean's tone. He walked over to where Dean had already popped open the trunk of the Impala. Instead of guns and knives, there was the spare tire, a toolkit, and several cans of car paint in the trunk. Sam hoisted up four of them, the muscles in his arms straining against his sleeves. Now it was Dean's turn to feel a twinge of lust.

“You just gonna stand there or help me unload this paint?” Sam fixed him with a look that said just you wait til later.

“Yep, sure am Sammy. Move your Sasquatch ass so I can.” Sam did, and set down the paint in its storage closet. He came back out, and took a good look at the Impala. Even though when they were on the road Dean did his best to take care of it, he couldn't help but notice the worn look of it, the paint faded, the trim work missing in spots. The chrome of the bumpers and grill didn't gleam like it used to, and the glass was faded with time. It served to remind him of the life, the lack of time to take care of the little things, and that gave Sam an idea.

“Hey Dean?” Sam walked to the front of the Impala, inspecting it further.

Dean closed the trunk and looked at him. “Yeah?”

When it came to the Impala, Dean was sensitive. It was his Baby, for a long time the only other constant in his life. “What would you say to me uh, doing some work just for you.”

“What sort of work Sammy?” Dean closed the trunk and moved to stand in front of his brother.

“I want to repaint Baby. I mean strip the paint off, the chrome – everything. Want to make her look new for you. It's the least I can do Dean, for everything.” Sam's look was dead serious.

Dean looked at his car for a moment, then back to Sam. “I trust you Sam.”

Sam's face brightened. “Really?” He looked like a kid at Christmas.

“Yeah, really. You've proved yourself Sam. I know she'll be in good hands.” Dean reached forward and took Sam's hands in his, rubbing his fingers over Sam's knuckles. He stepped closer to where he could whisper in Sam's ear. “Best hands in the world.”

Sam smiled ear to ear.

. . .

Sam had insisted upon doing his work in secret, devoting half of his day to Dean. He would work on the Impala in the mornings in the back of the garage, a large screen set up where Dean couldn't see him. He would come from behind it after lunch to help Dean for the rest of the day, covered in black paint and other assorted fluids. Dean didn't even try to peek behind the screen, knowing that Sam wanted this to be special.

It took awhile, but by the end of June, the Impala was ready. It was getting close to closing, and Sam had been behind the screen all day. Dean wiped his hands with a stained cloth and stepped over to where Sam could hear him. He didn't hear the sound of a tool coming from behind the screen, but that of soft cloth gliding over metal.

“About ready to go Sammy?” Dean stretched, a dull ache in his shoulders.

“Yeah. But first....” Sam stepped out from behind the screen, tucking the cloth into his back pocket. “I want you to close your eyes, and don't open them until I say so.” Sam looked like an excited puppy.

Dean closed his eyes and smiled. “Alright baby boy, whatever you say.”

Sam walked Dean backwards just a couple of steps, and then took the screen in his hands and moved it. He put a hand in Dean's and pulled him forward, and then moved behind him and put his hands on his hips. He said low in Dean's ear “You can open them now.”

Dean did, and his jaw hit the floor.

The Impala stood before him, deep black paint positively gleaming. Sam had repainted it a shade darker, but there was a hint of shine in it, reflecting off the overhead lights. Sam had buffed and redone every inch of chrome on the car, and Dean could see his reflection quite clearly in it. The headlights had been defogged, and the glass of the windshield shone like new, clearer than it had been in a long time. Sam had redone all the paint trim, replacing it where it had faded and chipped. Dean stepped forward, running his fingers over the hood, walking to the driver's side door and opening it. The squeak of metal that normally accompanied that action was gone, and it opened silently, and Dean sat down in the seat.

Sam had gone through the trouble of replacing the worn and cracked leather and reupholstered the entire car, the faint smell of fast food spilled on it gone, replaced by newness. Dean ran his fingers over the steering wheel, and looked over the dashboard, gauges and knobs glowing like new.

Sam slid into the passenger seat, watching Dean's face. Dean's eyes drifted over the space between the speedometer and the bottom of the dash, and a tear left his right eye. Sam had painted in beautiful script “Forever Yours” and right beneath it “Your Baby Boy.”

Sam leaned in close to Dean and said “That way you'll always know.” Dean swallowed, and he hugged Sam, burying his head in the crook of Sam's neck, breathing in Sam's scent, murmuring over and over again “Perfect” and “I love you.” After awhile, Dean pulled back his head and looked Sam in the eye, his own full of tears. “You're something special, you know that Sammy?”

Sam regarded him with a warm smile. “You've said it once or twice. I believe it a little more with each day.” Dean hugged Sam tight again, holding him for all he was worth.

. . .

After a year of being open, Sam and Dean were fully settled into business. They had built a second garage on the property, and Castiel was there more and more, helping to shape metal and mix paint, using a little angel mojo every know and then to give a newly restored car that extra shine or smoothness of running. It was Independence Day, and they had decided that they would close early. The other two techs they had hired to help had already been sent home, and Sam was bent over the workbench in the main shop, carefully polishing a bit of chrome to fit to a 1937 Packard's rear trim. Sam found that he loved working on the older cars like this one, and he had made it a sort of specialty. He found it to be really nice to not have to use a fake name all the time, to be able to introduce himself as Sam Winchester and not some alias.

Dean saw Sam bent over the workbench, and came up behind him. Sam had peeled down the to of his overalls, leaving his sweat soaked undershirt exposed, clinging tightly to his muscles. Between constantly working with his hands and arms and the regular workout routine that Sam kept up in the Bat Cave's gym, Sam had the body of a god, and Dean made a point to touch him as often as possible. He moved over to where Sam was standing and bent Sam upright with his hands, lips ghosting over the back of his neck.

Sam chuckled and said “You're lucky I wasn't holding a blowtorch.”

“I made sure you weren't.” Dean kissed up the side of Sam's neck, one hand wrapped around his stomach and the other moving into Sam's underwear.

Sam's breath quickened a little more. “What happened to the strict 'hands to yourself on the job policy?' I thought that was set in stone.”

Dean laughed, a low sound that made the hairs on the back of Sam's neck stand up. “We're closed for the rest of the day Sammy. So unless you've got-” Dean didn't get the chance to finish what he was saying as Sam turned in his arms and kissed Dean hard on the lips. Dean was caught off guard and stumbled backwards a little bit, but Sam's arms were right there to steady him. Sam broke the kiss and said “Hoped you would say that. Been thinking about bending you over that workbench and fucking you dry for awhile now.” Sam turned Dean and backed him up, clearing aside a spot on the wood surface to put Dean on.

Sam picked Dean up and set him there, and went back to kissing him, tongues sliding against one another, grappling for control. One of Sam's hands carded through Dean's hair while the other worked to unzip Dean's overalls, Sam's fingers trailing down Dean's body as he did, feeling him through his undershirt. Dean was trying his best to get Sam the rest of the way undressed, but Sam was just out of reach. Sam reached back up and pushed the now unzipped garment off of Dean's shoulders, pulling it off of him, raising him up to pull it off his hips and down his legs, pulling Dean's boots off along with it.

“So fucking hot Dean, look at you.” Sam heard the tear of fabric as Dean cast off his undershirt, his own desire having suddenly skyrocketed. Sam pulled his own undershirt off, but let the rest. Dean was nearly naked in front of him, just his boxers left on his slim hips, cock tenting them forward. Sam leaned in and gave Dean a bruising kiss, biting down on his bottom lip, drawing a moan from Dean. Dean breathed in deep, the mixture of Sam, sweat, and car shop coming together in his head, and his vision darkened slightly more as he felt all of his blood rush south to his cock. Sam reached down and rubbed Dean through the well worn cotton of his underwear, and Dean made this needy little moan that Sam decided he wanted to hear again.

Sam broke the kiss, looking at Dean's lust blown pupils, his kiss swollen lips, the way that Dean's bare chest was rising and falling, the plain look of _I want you_ all over his face. Sam smiled. “So fucking gorgeous Dean.” Sam claimed Dean's jaw with a nip of teeth, and continued his way down Dean's body, stopping to take the hardened pebble of Dean's left nipple in his mouth. Dean cried out “Sammy” as Sam swirled his tongue around the bud, and Sam's other hand went south to take Dean's now impossibly hard cock in his hand. He pulled down the waistband of his underwear, and Dean's thickness rested against his stomach, precum coating the head. Sam jacked him slowly as he continued to attack Dean's nipple, and Dean felt his brain switch off as he was overcome with pleasure. He was reduced to making sounds that bordered on whimpering, sounds that only Sam could cause him to make.

Sam decided that Dean had had enough of one exquisite torture and slowly licked his way down Dean's body, catching the taste of salt and sweat on his tongue as he did. He smoothed his hands over Dean's thighs and hooked his finger into the waistband of his underwear, and he pulled it down, leaving Dean completely naked. Sam crouched down and licked his way up Dean's balls, sucking on each one gently as he scooted Dean forward gently. Dean was suddenly glad that they had gotten a wide work bench, and he could lie down slightly as Sam tugged his buttocks towards him.

Sam moved to lick his way up Dean's length, and he teased at the sweet spot on the back of Dean's cock head, his mouth open as he blew warm air across the space, and Dean moaned loud again one more time. If their customers had any idea what was going on right now, they might not come back Sam thought as he finally gave Dean a little bit of what he so desired, sinking his mouth down over Dean, just enough to cover the head.

Dean tried to push down on Sam's head, but Sam smacked him away and looked up. “Stop being so greedy and you'll get what you want Dean.”

“Fuck Sam, please. Please I need you.” Dean's voice was a wreck.

“Need me to what Dean? You gotta tell me.”

“Need you to suck me Sam. Need you to let me feel that hot baby boy mouth of yours. God Sam, need it so fucking bad.”

Sam smiled, more than a hint of something dark in it. He watched Dean's face as he went down on him, the sudden burst of precum on his tongue making his own painfully hard cock beg for attention. Dean's hips struggled to rise up, to get more at the heat of Sam's mouth, but Sam was holding him down with a vise like grip, not letting him move. Sam took Dean down all the way to the base, opening his jaw wide to accommodate Dean's thick cock. He let Dean feel the heat of his throat for the briefest of moments before he moved back up, tightening his lips and cheeks even more, drawing a low, guttural sound out of Dean as he did. He did this three more times, sinking down low and then coming back up with agonizing slowness.

“C... c'mon Sam stop screwing... please....” Dean was a broken mess above him, nothing but arousal and want that Sam could literally smell coming off of him.

Sam started to give Dean the wettest, sloppiest blowjob imaginable, Dean's precum and his own saliva running down his jaw, trailing down Dean's balls and onto the table. Sam worked him with an experienced hand and mouth, the other down in between Dean's legs, one long finger teasing at his entrance. Dean hadn't entirely anticipated being topped by Sam today, but he was finding that he was more on more board with the idea with each passing second.

Dean couldn't take much more of Sam blowing him like this, and he tried to push Sam away, but Sam kept his mouth firmly on him, and right as Dean was about to cum, Sam let off and clamped a hand around the base of Dean's cock. “Don't you fucking even think about cumming yet Dean. Not done with you yet.” Sam's voice was gravelly from the blowjob that he had been giving Dean just a moment before.

Sam pulled Dean forward a little more and crouched back down, spreading Dean's ass cheeks open roughly with his hands. Dean's light pink hole was right in front of him, contracting in time with his pulsing cock. Sam noticed that the area around it had been shaved, and he looked up at Dean.

“You wanted this, didn't you Dean? Wanted me to eat you out like a slut on the workbench didn't you?”

“Yes! Yes Sam, yes, please just fucking do it, please make me feel good. Need you so fucking bad Sammy, please please please” Dean was getting to the point of desperate.

“You beg so pretty Dean.” Sam licked a teasing circle around the hole, watching and enjoying thoroughly the way Dean shuddered and moaned at the contact. He did it one more time, a keening noise escaping from Dean's lips.

“Gonna get you nice and wet and open for me Dean. Don't want to hurt you too bad.” Dean whimpered at the thought of Sam inside him, and he positively cried as Sam finally licked a wet, broad stripe up the cleft of Dean's ass. Sam rimmed Dean the same way he sucked him, slowly, drawing out the pleasant torture as much as he could. Dean tasted dark, masculine, his natural musk in combination with the sweat of his body all making Sam's arousal even greater. He placed his hands on Dean's hips, licking him open, using his tongue to make Dean ready for him. Dean took a fistful of Sam's hair and tried to press him even further into his body, and Sam moaned as he felt the twinge of pain in his scalp. Even when he was being eaten out Dean had to have some sort of control.

Dean moved to jack himself, but Sam reached up and put a hand on his wrist, holding it tight. Dean's cock was calling out for attention, wanting, no, needing release, needing release from where Sam had taken him. Sam had him right on the precipice of bliss, but was holding him to tight that he wasn't going to let him fall into it just yet.

Sam gave Dean's entrance one more firm lick, and then rose to his feet, pushing his overalls down around his ankles, taking his underwear with them. He pulled Dean towards him and claimed his mouth with a hungry kiss, sharing the taste of Dean's cock and ass with him. Dean opened his mouth to let in as much of Sam's tongue as possible, wanting to taste himself and Sam.

Dean felt the heat of Sam's cock against his thigh, and his stomach muscles fluttered as Sam ran his fingers over them, once again settling his hands on Dean's hips. Sam's pupils were black with desire, and the way that he was looking at Dean right now, all of that lust and want – it made Dean a little uncomfortable. He knew that when Sam was done with him he was going to be hurting, but it was a hurt that he craved at the same time. It always was when Sam topped him.

Dean spread his legs open, inviting Sam in, wanting Sam to fill him. His eyes were full of want, but underneath it trust. They didn't have any lube, so Sam spat in his hand and slicked himself up as best as he could, his fingers dragging against the hot flesh of his cock as his gazed bore deep into Dean. Dean couldn't help but stare back, because Sam was the most goddamn beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Sam noticed the look in Dean's eyes and raised a hand to put to the side of his face. “I've got you Dean. Right here.” Sam moved and pressed his cock against the warmth of Dean's hole, and he slowly slid it in. Dean screwed his eyes shut at the drag-burn of Sam sliding into him, friction building in his lower body, unused to not being lubed up like he normally was when this happened. He made a note to himself to keep some in the desk drawer because this was definitely going to happen again.

Sam was finally buried hilt deep in Dean, gasping for air because dean was _hot tight hot._ It felt like all of the heat outside the walls of the shop were inside, in Dean, warming Sam. He felt sweat running down his back, dripping down his legs, and he began to move, the fact that he had no condom on and he could feel Dean's muscles clinching around him making it even more exquisite.

Dean held on to Sam's thighs, his legs wrapped around Sam's waist, looking up into Sam's eyes, saying “Sammy” over and over again. Sam's head dipped, sweat making the ends of his hair stick together, his eyes all over Dean's body, memorizing every square inch of him. He pumped his hips a little faster, Dean having opened up a little more, but still not enough. Sam spat on his hand again and let it drip down in between where he and Dean were connected. The friction lessened by just a bit, and Sam managed to get his right foot out of his shoe and he placed it on the edge of the workbench, changing the angle of his thrusting, nailing Dean in the prostate with every thrust.

Dean was a wreck underneath him, all of his feelings and sensations focused on what Sam was doing to him right now, fucking hard into him, uttering loud, low sounds of pleasure every time he slif back into Dean, each passing second drawing him closer to orgasm. Sam took a hand and began to jack Dean's cock, asynchronous with the motion of his hips, wanting Dean to cum first. Dean dug his fingernails into Sam's hips, leaving half-moon shaped marks there, and the sensation of pain made Sam hiss, the way Dean was clinging to him for dear life, trying to convey through his fingertips how badly he wanted release.

With one, two, three more thrusts of his hips, Sam came, Dean's name spilling forth over and over from his lips, and hearing Sam say his name like that, full of passion and climax, tipped Dean over, and the floodgates deep inside him opened, his cum shooting out of him, taking with him most of his consciousness, Sam Sam Sam a chant on his lips, carrying him to the high plane of ecstasy that only Sam could get him to, the only one he ever wanted.

Dean collapsed back on the work bench, his chest covered in sweat and his own seed, panting for breath. Sam slid out of him with a long, wet motion, and Dean winced as Sam withdrew, leaving him feeling more than a little uncomfortable. He was going to be feeling this one for days.

Sam pulled him up and poured all of the love and tenderness he had to give into a kiss, his hand in Dean's hair, stroking him and saying _I love you_ over and over again against Dean's mouth. Sam kept kissing him until he felt Dean's breathing relax, and he looked into Dean's blissed out face, smiling like he was the happiest person on earth, which at that moment he probably was.

Sam pulled him down off the workbench, and grabbed a relatively clean cloth, and wiped Dean down. “So.... workplace sex, yes or no Dean?”

Dean's laugh was throaty. “Definitely a yes, Sammy. How long had you been waiting to do that?”

Sam ran the other side of the towel over his sweat covered body. “Since we opened Dean. I picked that table out deliberately so that I could line up with you.”

That knowledge sent a thrill down Dean's spine. “You're a sneaky bastard, you know that?”

Sam laughed, and started to put his clothes back on, leaving his overalls unzipped and his undershirt off. “I'm your sneaky bastard though.” He tossed Dean his underwear.

“Wouldn't have it any other way Sammy. But next time, we're using lube. I'm not gonna be able to sit for three days.”

Sam gave him that evil grin again. “When we get home and get cleaned up, I could always kiss it and make it better.” Sam ran his tongue over his lips.

Dean's stomach dropped and he felt his cock make a twinge of interest. “You're not serious, are you?”

Sam laughed. “Oh I'm very serious Dean. Want to get you all cleaned up and then lick you out so good that you can't even think straight. You love it Dean, love it when I eat you out like a girl.” Sam approached him, the heat in the room suddenly going back up. “Unless you can't handle it Dean.”

Dean fixed him with an expression that was only a small part mock challenge. “Oh I can handle it baby boy, don't you worry.”

As it turned out, Dean handled it very, very well.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had never thought he would live past thirty, much less to see thirty five.

Sam wasn't in bed next to him that morning, his side of the bed having long gone cold. Dean wasn't worried, just a little miffed as to why Sam wasn't there. He turned his head and looked at the clock on the bedside table – it was just past 9:30.

It was a Sunday, and they had both decided soon after opening their shop that it would be closed Sundays – those were the days that they spent in each other's company without really worrying about the rest of the world.

Dean sat up and stretched, heading over to the bathroom. After relieving himself and splashing cold water on his face, he read the note that Sam had left on the mirror in their bathroom:

“Make sure you're decent when you come down. And bring an appetite.” Dean smiled at the note and pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans, an old green t-shirt going over his torso.

He made his way down the long staircase to the kitchen, where the smell of breakfast greeted him. He stepped in the kitchen, and his jaw dropped.

Standing next to the table were Sam and Cas, a huge spread of breakfast on the table – all of Dean's favorites: scrambled eggs, pancakes with chocolate chips in them, extra crispy bacon, and a tall pitcher of orange juice, which Dean was sure Sam had hand squeezed, because Sam had taken to doing stuff like that lately.

“Guys.. this.. wow.” Sam came over to him and wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling his head up for a tender, warm kiss. Dean didn't even care that Cas was in the room – he had seen far worse since he had become their guardian angel. Sam kissed him until he felt himself start to become aroused and pulled away. “We got up early for this Dean, so you better like it.” Dean gave Sam a playful slap to the chest and ruffled his hair in the way he knew would make Sam pull a bitch face, but Sam just smiled instead.

Dean sat down in the chair that Sam had pulled out for him and sat down. Sam came up behind him and rubbed Dean's shoulders, kissing him on the cheek as he did so. Sam sat down more or less next to him, and Cas remained standing. “This day is for the two of you, so I shall be taking my leave. If you need anything, you know how to find me.” With that, Cas was gone, and Sam and Dean were left my themselves.

Sam started in on his breakfast and spoke as he cut up a pancake. “So Dean.. how does it feel to be an old man of thirty five?”

Dean laughed, a rich, happy laugh that Sam heard more and more nowadays. “Sammy if you had asked me that question when I turned thirty I would have said shitty. I don't think I would have lived to see thirty five. But here we are, and we're both still alive.” Sam looked up at Dean with a half smile. He could see the way that their life had weighed on Dean, but through it a happiness that had only been hard won. The last few years without hunting had done both of them wonders. The work of the shop kept them in decent shape, even if Dean wasn't quite as hard as he used to be.

“You know Dean, I still find you attractive.” Sam swiped his pancake through the syrup on his plate.

“Didn't figure you had stopped, not after last night anyway.” Dean winked at him, and Sam blushed.

“No Dean, I'm serious. Even when we're both old and arthritic, you'll still be hot to me.”

Dean snorted. “Jeez Sam, let's not think that far ahead yet, alright?”

Sam nodded. “I won't. Let's just think about now. What do you want to do today Dean?”

Dean chewed and thought for a moment. “Want to spend it with you Sammy. Just like the last thirty one I've had.”

“So you don't want to do anything special, just.. hang with your boring baby brother?”

Dean leaned closer to Sam and put a hand on Sam's knee. “You mean my beyond incredible soulmate who I love more than anyone or anything else in the world? Yeah, I want to spend it with him.”

Sam dipped his head, Dean's warm gaze making him blush. “When you put it like that Dean just... that's what takes my breath away.”

Dean tilted Sam's chin up, his mouth curled in a smile. “And may I forever do that baby boy. Because you do the same thing to me. You always have Sammy. Even when we were growing up, and before... well everything, you made me happier than anyone else. You're the best and truest friend I've ever had, the perfect brother, and... just so much more than that Sam. You can give me no greater gift than waking up next to you every morning, putting your arms around me, and telling me 'I love you.' And when you say it, my heart bursts, because out of the things I've heard in my life, it's the only thing that's always been true.”

Sam hadn't meant to start crying, but he was, his lips quivering. He hugged Dean tight, and Dean hugged him back, hugged him as tight as he could. Sam's voice was muffled in his shoulder as he spoke. “You used to not say stuff like that Dean.” Sam picked his head up and wiped his eyes. “What changed?”

Dean put his hand to the side of Sam's face and rubbed it. “You loved me back.”

“But I always have Dean.”

“You know what I mean Sammy.”

Sam smiled at him, his lips parted slightly. “Yeah, I do.”

Breakfast was cold by the time they got back to eating.

. . .

Dean went down to the garage to find Sam polishing Monster, making the deep maroon paint sparkle. He was listening to Billie Holiday sing “God Bless The Child” and humming along with it. Sam, aside from spending time with Dean, seemed happiest in the garage, working with his hands. It struck him as odd, mostly because Sam wasn't normally enthusiastic about helping fix the Impala when it broke down or needed work, but once he had his own car, that all changed.

Dean came up behind him and put his arms around Sam's waist. “Was wondering where you'd gone.” He kissed the back of Sam's neck, his lips soft against Sam's skin.

Sam stood upright and turned in Dean's arms. “Just down here for a bit. Wanted Monster to look good for tonight.”

Dean gave him a searching look. “What's tonight?”

Sam kissed him on the lips, just a chaste brush of contact. “You'll see Dean.” Sam winked and turned back around, picking up his cloth once more.

Since it didn't seem like Sam was in the mood to offer up any more clues to this mystery, Dean shrugged and picked up his own can of car polish, turning his attention to the Impala, standing opposite from Sam's car.

There was no doubt in his mind that whatever Sam was planning, it would be wonderful.

. . .

Sam spent the rest of the day around Dean, most of it with his arms around him. Dean wound up taking a nap as they watched Indiana Jones, his head on Sam's shoulder. After waking up, Sam only teased him a little bit for falling asleep, and Dean promptly held Sam down and showed him how old he wasn't by fucking him good and deep right there on the couch, their cries of pleasure echoing through the bunker.

Sam was in the kitchen again making dinner and putting it in a picnic basket, his ass still more than a little sore from earlier. Dean came in, his hair still damp from the shower he had taken.

“How you feeling Sammy?” Dean went to the refrigerator and took out a beer, opening it with a quick twist of his hand.

Sam looked over at him, wincing slightly as he shifted his weight. “Little sore, but you know, nothing I'm not accustomed to by now.”

Dean laughed, taking a sip of his beer right after. “It must be in the thousands now, the times we've done that.”

Sam smiled at him, putting a covered plastic dish in the basket. “I stopped counting after the thousandth orgasm you gave me.”

“You were counting?”

“For awhile anyway. No need to worry about your sexual prowess Dean, you're still doing just fine in that area.” Sam winked at him, letting his eyes roam over Dean's body.

Dean set down his beer bottle and crossed over to where Sam was standing. “You know, with you around Sam I don't think I'll ever need Viagra.”

“You think so?”

Dean put a hand under Sam's shirt and ran it up his body, appreciating the hard muscle under his skin. “Definitely.”

Dean reached up his other hand and kissed Sam, his tongue pressing against Sam's lips. Sam leaned back against the counter and pulled Dean towards him, Dean's hand hot against his skin. Sam felt himself start to get hard again, even though they had had sex not even three hours ago.

Dean broke the kiss and said “Want you Sammy.” He reached down and palmed Sam through his jeans, making Sam's breath hitch. “Want you inside me baby boy. Want you to fill me up with your big fucking dick. Got myself nice and opened up for you in the shower, thought about you while I did it.” Dean bit along Sam's jaw as he unbuckled and unfastened his jeans, dropping them to the floor along with his underwear. He took one of Sam's hands and placed it on his ass, indicating what he wanted. Sam cupped him, squeezing the muscle.

Dean reached down and got Sam's pants off, Sam's hard cock rubbing against his stomach as soon as he had them off. Dean stepped out out of them, his legs bare save for the socks on his feet. Sam took Dean's cock in his hand, stroking him to full hardness, his work-worn palm dragging a moan out of Dean has he did. Sam turned them and put Dean up on the counter, making sure there weren't any sharp knives behind him as he did so. Sam removed the hand that he had on Dean's length and traveled down further, pressing two thick fingers into Dean's entrance. He felt the warm slickness of lube, and Dean's shoulders hitched up as he crooked them, finding Dean open and ready for him.

Sam braced his hands against Dean's hips and held him tight as he slid in, Dean's eyes locked with his the whole time. Dean put his arms on Sam's shoulders and wrapped his legs around Sam's waist, drawing him in deeper. Every time Sam topped him, it never failed to surprise Dean how big Sam was, how good it felt inside him. Dean caught his breath and whispered right into Sam's ear “Fuck me baby boy.”

And Sam did. He started slow, his mouth against Dean's as he slowly rocked his hips. Dean gripped Sam's shoulders tight, lest he should slide off the counter. Dean broke the kiss and buried his head in the crook of Sam's neck, urging Sam to go faster. They had been doing this for so long that words weren't even needed, and Sam gave Dean exactly what he wanted. He sped up, the cabinets rattling around them as his hips slammed into Dean, the sound of their flesh smacking and echoing in the space around them.

Sam reached down and pushed Dean's shirt up, taking his cock in his and stroking Dean asynchronous to his thrusts. “God...Sammy.. yeah, that's it, Sammy fuck me. Fuck me so good Sammy, so damn good.” Dean felt the pull of orgasm low in his body, and he wrapped his legs tighter around Sam. Sam pulled Dean down a little further, changing the angle of his thrusts. Dean cried out, loud and low, as Sam hit his sweet spot over and over again, and before he could hold back anymore Dean came, shouting Sam's name as he spilled over Sam's hand, Sam's teeth in his neck as he came right behind Dean, drawing the taste of blood.

Sam held his forehead against Dean's body for a moment, and then looked down at his body. Dean had come on his stomach, and Sam extracted himself from Dean and licked up his torso, capturing Dean's essence on his tongue. He kissed Dean on the mouth, making Dean taste himself. He pressed two fingers into Dean's fucked out hole, and Dean shuddered as Sam pressed against his oversensitized prostate.

“Think you can come again Dean?” Sam began to slide his fingers in and out, the motion made easier by having his own come deep inside Dean.

“God... Sam...” Dean's body shuddered as Sam fucked him harder, Dean's cock beginning to swell again.

“C'mon Dean, come for your Sammy again. I know you can, know you want to.” Sam bit down on the tendon on the left side of Dean's neck, and he felt the sensation go right down his spine to his groin, and he got hard once more. Sam continued to drag two, then three fingers in and out of him, Dean's breathing heavy. Sam had a wicked smile on his face, giving Dean no break to recover.

It didn't take long for Dean to come again, his voice a broken whimper as a weak stream of come ran out of the end of his cock, pooling in the space between Sam's forefinger and thumb. “Sam... please no... no more.” Sam kissed Dean on the forehead and backed off, his own cock now soft between his legs. He retrieved a paper towel and ran water over it, then proceeded to clean up Dean and himself, planting soft kisses on Dean's skin as he did so.

Dean was wearing a look of sleepy contentment by the time Sam was done. Sam tossed the paper towel and hiked his pants back up, looking at his watch as he did so. It was just past sundown, and it was nearly time for them to get going. “C'mon Dean, we don't want to be late.” Dean opened an eye and said “Really?”

“Yup. It's a little bit of a drive, so we need to go. We'll even take the Impala.” Dean got down off of the counter, pulling up his discarded pants and underwear as he did. “You're driving.”

Sam allowed himself a small smile of triumph as Dean walked towards the door.

. . .

They drove away from Lebanon, the dark Kansas shining with a blanket of stars overhead. It took them almost an hour to reach their destination, a hilltop a county over. There were not other cars around, and Sam parked in a relatively flat space and shut off the engine.

Dean got out and looked up at the sky, breathing “Wow.” There was no light pollution, no other cars, nothing but them and the Impala, just like it was for so long.

They ate dinner in silence, roast beef sandwiches with extra mustard, just as Dean liked. Sam had even made a cherry pie that Dean approved of by consuming a quarter of in five minutes, not even taking the time to wipe his mouth between bites. Dean made it up to him by kissing Sam full on the mouth afterward and letting him lick the taste of cherries and pastry out of his mouth.

After cleaning up, Sam picked up the picnic blanket and spread it over the cool metal of the Impala's hood, not wanting to scuff the still relatively new paint job. He climbed up and gestured for Dean to join him. Dean settled back against the windshield, Sam's arm around him.

“I have to ask Sammy, why did you bring me here? I thought we were going bar hopping.”

“I was thinking the other day about how long it had been since we'd gone stargazing. I figured it up and it's been... God Dean, years now. So I thought we would just come out here for old time's sake. That and there's something else.” He pointed up, and as he did a meteor streaked across the sky, and then another, and then more and more. Dean looked up at the heavens in awe, his mouth a wide smile. He hadn't seen a meteor shower since he was a kid, and had always wanted to see one again.

It lasted for nearly an hour, and by the time it was over, Dean's heart felt warm. He turned his head to Sam, looking him deep in the eyes. “Thanks for this Sammy just... thank you.” Sam closed his eyes and kissed Dean softly, his hand coming up and pressing Dean closer to him.

After awhile, Sam broke the kiss and said “Happy Birthday Dean.” Dean ran a hand through his long brown hair, letting it twine between his fingers as he kissed Sam again.

This, Dean thought as Sam's tongue found its way into his mouth, is the good life.

 


End file.
